I Do
by And She Would Fall Xx
Summary: Based on the movie The Vow. Harry and Draco are happily married until an accident leaves Draco with amnesia. He believes it's still their 6th year at Hogwarts and still despises Harry. Will Harry be able to make Draco fall in love with him all over again?
1. Chapter 1

Life is a fragile, delicate thing. Harry Potter had battled against the Dark Arts for his entire life, and seen the worlds of others collapsing around him, shattering into a million irreparable pieces, but miraculously, his had always maintained relatively stable. After taking that for granted for twenty-one long years, one fateful day changed everything. The truth became unavoidable: even the life of the Boy Who Lived was as breakable as an eggshell. And everyone knows that once an eggshell is shattered, no matter how long and hard you try to put the shards back together, it is changed totally and irrevocably, never to be the same again.

That morning started off unremarkably. Harry sat at the kitchen table, reading the Daily Prophet and sipping a glass of ice cold water. He would usually have coffee before he left for work, but that summer morning was almost unbearably hot. Cool hands touched his bare shoulders (he used to jump when this happened, but now it occurred so regularly he sometimes didn't even notice) and he turned in his chair with a smile.

"Good morning, love," he said brightly, leaning up to greet Draco with a kiss before taking a sip of his water.

"Morning," the other mumbled. Harry grinned, taking in his disheveled appearance, and the way he was practically dragging himself to the coffee maker. If he had learned anything about his husband in the past year, it was that the platinum blond was not a morning person.

After serving himself a cup of coffee, Draco dropped into the chair across from Harry with an exaggerated sigh. "Nobody should ever have to wake up this early."

Harry blinked confusedly for a moment, turning to confront a clock mounted on the kitchen wall. "It's almost ten thirty," he informed his partner.

Draco glared up at him. "Your point?"

Chuckling, the brunet held up his hands in defense. "Nothing, nothing at all." After a brief moment, Draco nodded contentedly, and stared down at his coffee. He picked up a spoon and began to stir absentmindedly, though his coffee never had any cream or sugar. Harry knew this to be one of Draco's many nervous habits.

"Ready for the game?" Harry asked him, watching his pale, thin hand make even a task so small as stirring coffe look graceful, like a choreographed dance.

A small muscle in Draco's jaw twitched. "Does it look like I'm ready?" he snapped, glaring once again.

Harry sighed. The blond was always on edge the morning of his Quidditch matches, and reminded him of the days before the war ended, when the two were Hogwarts' most infamous rivals. All of Draco's nervous energy made him a bit of a prat, but Harry was used to defusing the anger and not letting it affect their relationship. "You know I'm just trying to help," he stated reasonably, standing to put his empty cup in the sink. "There's no need to be rude."

Draco sighed and sipped his coffee, grimacing when it burned the roof of his mouth. Harry had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Every morning the blond would drink scalding hot coffee, burn his tongue, spend the rest of the day whining about not being able to taste his food, and then the next morning without fail, would once again drink the coffee without letting it cool. He glanced up, more subdued. "Sorry," he mumbled, "I'm just nervous."

Harry smiled and walked over to him, wrapping his strong arms around Draco's shoulders from behind. "I know." He kissed Draco's neck lightly, then his cheek, and finally his temple. "But I also know that you're going to be brilliant today, as you always are." Draco, flushing lightly from the praise, turned and kissed his husband slowly in gratitude.

"Will you be there today?" Draco asked as Harry separated himself and picked up his newspaper, preparing to go get himself dressed and groomed.

Grinning, Harry stared at his husband. "Of course. Have I missed a game yet?"

"No, I was simply checking."

"Don't ever underestimate my devotion to you and your Quidditch, Dragon." Harry joked as he walked towards their bedroom.

Draco choked on his coffee, sputtering indignantly. "Dragon? Don't you ever underestimate my ability my make your arse sleep on the couch." Draco called out as he watched Harry walk away.

Harry had off from work that day, so going to watch Draco play Quidditch was the only responsibility he had. He dressed leisurely in his favorite pair of denim jeans, and a simple black tee-shirt before tugging a hairbrush swiftly and pointlessly through his untamable hair. Before leaving the room he shoved his wand into his back pocket, and grabbed Draco's dark grey and white Quidditch robe from the blond's side of their shared closet. A white emblazoned falcon stared up at him from the robe as he walked back out to his husband, who was waiting expectantly, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

The brunet smiled reassuringly, as was his main job on game days, reaching out and tucking a stray white-blond lock of hair behind the other's ear. Draco leaned almost imperceptibly into the touch before taking his robe and putting it on carefully, smoothing it over his lean figure. Harry found his breath hitching in his throat, as it always did when Draco put on his uniform. His robes always made his already striking eyes stand out - fearsome and severe to his competitors, but unique and stunning to Harry. Harry took in Draco's appearance hungrily, his chiseled facial features, strong jaw line, robes revealing a tantalizing amount of perfect, pale skin.

The blond's eyebrow was arched amusedly as he basked in the attention his husband was giving him. "See something you like?" he asked casually, smirking as Harry was broken from his reverie.

"Maybe," Harry recovered and responded quickly, reaching out and grabbing the blond's extremely ticklish waist. Draco squeaked (though he would never admit to it later) and jumped backwards, already preparing for the upcoming battle. The scene that unfolded would probably seem bizarre to any bystander, with two grown men laughing wildly as they chased each other around their decently sized apartment, but to them it was just a way to loosen up and get rid of excess nerves. Harry had the  
>smaller man pinned beneath him, writhing as Harry tickled him relentlessly.<p>

Finally, just when Draco thought his lungs were about to collapse from a lack of oxygen, Harry released him, rolling onto his side next to the blond. He entwined their fingers as they each struggled to regain their energy. Draco loved that Harry always somehow knew exactly when their games needed to be played, and subsequently, when they needed to end.

Draco ran his hands through his mussed hair and groaned. "I probably look like a mess now."

Harry turned his head and stared in awe at the man that he loved more than anything else in the world. His usually pale cheeks were tinged red from exertion and his grey eyes were bright and alert as they stared back at him. His heart fluttered in his chest as though it was still the very first time he was looking at Draco. "No," Harry said, "You look beautiful."

The blond smiled brilliantly and rolled onto his stomach, cupping Harry's face in his hands and kissing him passionately. It was sensual and exciting and everything that a kiss should be. Harry placed his hands on the blond's back and rolled them over, letting his hands roam over Draco's familiar figure. The blond chuckled, placing his hands on Harry's broad chest and pushing him away.

"Let's not forget that I have a game today," he said, still trying to regain his breath. Harry groaned and dropped dramatically back to the hardwood floor beside him. Draco laughed again, a happy, bubbly sound that five years ago Harry would never have guessed the blond was capable of. He leaned over and kissed Harry once more on the cheek, before standing and rushing to the bathroom to fix his appearance. Harry smiled absently up at the ceiling for a moment longer before righting himself and he, too, began to compose himself.

An hour later, Harry was sitting in the stands beside Ron and Hermione, eyes trained on his husband as he soared dozens of feet above the game, circling the pitch slowly.

"They've got this, mate," Ron encouraged. "Hands down. The Cannons' seeker isn't nearly as fast as Draco is, and the Keeper is practically asleep out there."

Harry nodded in agreement, smiling. Hermione and Ron were extremely skeptical of his relationship with their former enemy when they first started dating, but when they announced their engagement, all of the bitterness just seemed to dissipate. Draco joined him every time he visited the Burrow, and Ron and Hermione had yet to miss a single match of his. Since Ron and Hermione were married as well, the two couples often went out together and all got on really well. Harry noted how Hermione's hand was rubbing slow circles on her swollen belly, a habit that she started since she was about three months pregnant.

Looking up at the bright summer sky, Harry sighed in contentment. Everything was just perfect.

"Look!" Hermione yelled, breaking Harry out of his reverie. "Draco's seen it!" Following Hermione's line of vision, Harry saw that she was right. The blond was zipping across the pitch, almost too quick to be seen, weaving in and out of the other players without even seeming to need to pay attention to where they were. The other seeker was not far behind Draco, but Harry knew that Ron had been right. This man was agile, but didn't have the speed he needed to catch up. Suddenly, Draco shot down towards the ground, hand extended in front of him. Harry's hands gripped the wooden rail in front of him as he watched his husband nervously. If the blond didn't pull away soon, there would be no way to avoid a face first collision with the ground. Draco's arm extended further and his hand trembled. He was two feet away, then one...

He cried out and his fist closed around the golden Snitch, and he wrenched up his broom with all of his strength, avoiding an accident by mere inches. Harry and his friends jumped out of their seats, cheering and screaming wildly. The game had hardly lasted fifteen minutes.

Harry watched Draco circle the pitch once, thrusting his fist with the Snitch up in the air to the deafening cheers of fans. Harry never saw Draco look as brilliantly joyful as he did when he won a game, a wide, open-mouthed smile gracing his face, pink from exertion, wind blowing his hair away from his face and his grey robes billowing out behind him. And when the blond flew by their stands, he looked directly at his husband, smiled, and winked, as he did after every game. Harry flushed and whooped even louder.

And then, as the crowd gave a collective gasp of alarm, Harry watched in slow motion as a bludger that had yet to be tamed flew out of the grasp of the referee, and launched directly towards Draco, too quickly to be stopped. Draco turned just in time to see the bludger that crashed into the side of his head, knocking him off of his broom and sending him tumbling to the ground a dozen feet below him, where he remained unmoving as the officials swarmed around him.

It took every ounce of willpower Harry had not to jump off the bleachers to get to his husband sooner. Face completely drained of every ounce of blood, he shoved and elbowed the crowd out of his way, paying no mind to the shouts of his friends behind him. The image of Draco deathly still and cold as stone urged him on faster and faster, images blurring and fading before his eyes before he reached his destination.

Harry stood a few feet away, watching his love be swarmed by healing staff, waiting with baited breath till the moment someone told him what was going on.

That moment didn't come until two hours later when, standing in an unnaturally cold, white room, he was told that Draco would make it. Harry let out a huge sigh of relief, along with Hermione and Ron, who had come along just to hold Harry's hands and rub soothing circles on their best friend's back. The healer, however, didn't leave, and Harry turned back to her with a frown.

"So when can I go see him?" he questioned.

The woman looked slightly uncomfortable as she responded, "Well, now. However, you should know that the bludger hit him hard in the temple, shattering and bending his bones to the point where he had some brain damage. We were able to fix up most of it," she added quickly, noticing how pale Harry had gone. "the bones and tissue were easy to repair, but there could still be some side effects."

"What kind of side effects?" Harry demanded.

Her hair was as unruly as Hermione's was during their first year, Harry noted distantly as she shook her head. "We won't know until we wake him up. That's where you come in. So if you'll just come this way, we can wake him up and run a few more tests."

Harry nodded numbly and followed the woman, torn between overwhelming relief and crushing panic. When they reached his room, Harry started. For some reason, Harry had pictured seeing the blond bloody and bruised, as he was on the Quidditch pitch, but now he just looked as if he was sleeping. The only remaining evident of the incident was a small, crescent-shaped scar on his temple where he had been hit.

The Healer made Harry stand to the side of the room as she poured a strange blue liquid down Draco's throat, ("in case he had a bad reaction," she had explained to him.) The brunet's heart thudded painfully in his chest as the blond sputtered briefly before he slowly, painstakingly opened his piercing grey eyes. They were immediately fixated on the nurse in front of him.

"W-what?" he managed to choke out, confusion evident on his face.

The red-headed nurse smiled reassuringly. "I'm Healer Mackenzie. You had an accident, Mr. Malfoy. You hit your head, and you're in the hospital."

The blond blinked absently at her for a moment before asking sharply, "When can I go home?" Harry winced slightly. Draco didn't use that tone as often since they married, and it still reminded him of their Hogwarts days.

Healer Mackenzie's smile faltered only slightly before she responded, "We just have to run a few more tests, then you're free to leave with Mr. Potter, of course." Harry was by the woman's side in an instant, nodding and trying to look reassuring and confident.

Draco, however, hissed and jumped further back on his bed, pale complexion losing even more color as his face contorted into a pinched, unpleasant expression. "Potter. Why are you here?" he spat, venom laced in his words like never before.

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion and hurt. It had been years since Draco had called him by his last name. "What are you talking about?" he reasoned. "I'm here to bring you back home."

"Home?" Draco sounded more and more horrified by the second. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

The realization hit Harry with such physical force that he had to grab onto the rail of the bed to steady himself. Draco, for whatever reason, didn't know that they lived together.

"Draco…" he started hesitantly, Draco's cold grey eyes still glaring daggers his way. "We're married. We live together."

The blond looked like he was going to be sick, or hex everyone in the room, or maybe both. He looked down at his left hand and gaped at the silver band adorning his ring finger. Before Harry could blink, Draco had ripped off the symbol of their marriage, the ring that he had worn for an entire year without ever once taking off, and sent it flying across the room. It slammed against the far wall and fell to the ground dejectedly.

"What kind of sick joke are you playing at, Potter?" Draco screamed, eyes suspiciously glassy. Harry's eyes remained glued to the ring lying on the floor. He walked over slowly and picked it up carefully, clutching it in his fist.

'_Draco doesn't know we're married.'_ Harry realized. _'Draco hates me.' _

He remained in the room for only a moment longer before he dashed out of the room, down the hallway, and promptly emptied the contents of his stomach in a cold steel trashcan. When he was finished he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and slid down against the wall, sobbing in earnest as he stared down at the discarded, now-bent wedding band he continued to hold in the palm of his hand.

* * *

><p>AN: Hello! So if you can't tell, this story is based on the movie The Vow, which I saw in theatres, and which was phenomenal. I don't own The Vow or Harry Potter, just this little plot crossover I thought up. I won't be sticking strictly to the plot of the movie, but I will be following it to a degree. Hope you all enjoy!

Please review :)


	2. Chapter 2

Draco clutched at the blankets around him with his pale, trembling hands. He watched furiously as Harry ran from the room, and then turned his attentions back to the Healer.

"What's happening?" he demanded, anger and confusion running through every part of him like blood, leaving him with an uncontrollable urge to lash out and knock the fake smile off of the redheaded woman's face.

The Healer's smile dimmed only slightly, however, as she picked up the clipboard on his bedside table and scribbled down some notes. "It seems that you have some memory loss, Mr. Malfoy. What's the last thing you remember?"

Draco scrunched his nose as he struggled to see through the fog that clouded his memory. "I was in Hogwarts," he decided. "A Potions lesson, maybe? I'm not sure."

Healer Mackenzie looked up in alarm. "In Hogwarts? As a student?"

The blond rolled his eyes in frustration. "No, as a _professor_," he replied sarcastically. "Haven't you heard? They let all the sixteen-year-olds teach classes nowadays."

Placing the clipboard down, she sat in the chair beside him gently, pity overwhelming her features. Draco's blood boiled at the sight of it. "You might want to brace yourself, Mr. Malfoy, I'm about to give you some tough news."

Even though fear was gripping his heart like ice, Draco maintained his composure as he spat, "Out with it, already."

Healer Mackenzie's eyes were trained on him as she said slowly, "You're twenty-one, Mr. Malfoy. You were playing Quidditch with your team, Falmouth Falcons, when you were hit with a bludger and fell off your broom… And Mr. Potter really is your husband."

Draco blinked slowly. "Twenty-one… You're trying to tell me five years have passed? And I actually _married_ that insufferable prat?" His voice was rising in pitch as he began to panic.

"Stay calm, please," the woman coaxed, "This kind of amnesia is typical of head injuries such as yours. It's entirely possible that your memories might come back to you with time."

Draco, however, was barely listening. He threw his covers back and swung his feet over the side of the bed. The Healer reached out to him, saying something, but he couldn't hear anything over the frenzied sound of his own pulse. He stood and swayed on his feet for a moment before walking clumsily towards the already-open bathroom. The sound of Healer Mackenzie calling out for assistance was just background noise as he pushed frantically into the small bathroom, rushing towards the full-length mirror and praying for a sign that this was all just a giant practical joke Potter was playing on him.

As he caught sight of himself in the mirror, however, he had to stifle a cry as he realized that they weren't lying. He almost didn't even recognize the stranger staring back at him. His facial features which had once been delicate and boyish had morphed into those of a man. He dragged two fingers along his strong jaw line and wondered at his clearly defined cheekbones. His hair was much longer than he had ever allowed it to be, white blond strands falling freely against his forehead and around his neck, rather than slicked back and orderly, as he liked to have it.

"Mr. Malfoy, you need to get back in bed, you're not well." A large man hovered in the doorway, watching him with dark, alert eyes.

Draco clenched his jaw. "Please just give me two minutes to myself." It came out more harshly than he intended, but the hoarseness of his voice was something he couldn't have predicted. He realized now that his voice even sounded different; deeper and more mature.

The guard hesitated for a moment and nodded. "Two minutes," he reminded, before closing the door behind him as he left.

Quickly, Draco stripped himself of the thin hospital gown, suddenly needing to know how else he had changed. He stared at his reflection in shock. He had always been thin, with barely evident muscles from the Quidditch he played in his spare time. But the image in front of him spoke of a man whose entire life was devoted to physical activity. He was still fairly thin, but his arms looked powerful and sinewy, his abdomen was toned and taut, and his thighs and calves were strong and solid. This type of body only came from years of training, he realized, and remembered something his Healer said about him playing for the Falcons.

He shook his head in amazement as he traced a thin silver scar on his chest, which he assumed also came from playing Quidditch. How could this have happened to him? He had always wanted to be a Potions professor like his godfather, Snape.

Suddenly overwhelmed and exhausted, he pulled his hospital gown back over his head and made no protest as the guard barged in, told him his two minutes were up, and escorted him back to his bed. He rolled over and squeezed his eyes shut, falling into a fitful sleep, hoping that maybe when he woke up, he would find that this was all just a twisted nightmare.

* * *

><p>Harry waited almost a full hour before the Healer came out and explained to him what was happening. She looked extremely worn out when she walked into the waiting room, as well as very sad. She took the seat beside Harry and shifted around, trying to get comfortable, before giving up and turning her attention to the clearly distraught man beside her.<p>

"So, as you can tell, the memory loss is more severe than we anticipated," she started. Harry turned to stare at her with his red-rimmed green eyes as she continued. "He woke up thinking he was sixteen, still a Hogwarts student."

A wave of shock passed through Harry, before it turned into a sense of hopelessness. Their rivalry had reached a fever pitch during their sixth year. If that's how Draco remembered him now, how could he ever win him back?

He fought back more tears as Healer Mackenzie informed him, "It's not unusual, in cases like these, for the patient to make a full recovery over time. If he goes back to his daily routine as soon as possible, he could regain his memory. Please don't lose hope, Mr. Potter." She carefully put a hand on the man's shoulder.

The brunet laughed bitterly, choking back bile and trying to focus on not throwing up again. "Are you married?"

The woman hesitated before shaking her head. "No, but I am engaged."

"What would you do if one day, you went home to your fiancé and realized that he didn't love you anymore? That every single one of the good memories you two had created together were erased? That he couldn't stand the sight of you? What would you _do_?" Harry urged her to understand his position. She was staring down forlornly at her engagement ring and shaking her head, but she remained silent. Harry stood up and smiled tightly at Draco's Healer. "So thank you for your encouragement, ma'am. But please don't tell me that our situation isn't hopeless, because you know as well as I do that it damn well is." Harry turned and walked away before the woman had even looked up at him.

He walked until he founds the cafeteria, ordered himself a large coffee, and sat down at an empty table.

If Draco thought he was still in his sixth year, he didn't remember the war. He didn't remember the trials or his family's probation status. He didn't have any idea what happened with Voldemort. Didn't know that Snape was dead. How could he possibly explain all of that to him?

For quite some time, Harry sat at that table contemplating what to do and say, or even if he should do or say anything at all. He was in such a deep reverie that he didn't even notice when someone walked over to his table and hovered above him until they cleared their throat. Harry tore his gaze from his coffee and almost dropped it in surprise when he realized that Draco was standing next to him, gaze anywhere but on the brunet's face.

After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Draco said simply, "I'm hungry."

Harry scrambled to his feet and smiled broadly. "Alright, I'll go get you something." Draco scowled, but nodded and sat down while Harry ordered him a sandwich and black coffee.

Draco took a sip of the coffee and his face immediately scrunched in disgust. "What is this rubbish?"

"Coffee?" Harry explained weakly, unsure of what was wrong.

"There's no cream or sugar," Draco complained, pushing the cup away from him.

"You never drink it with cream or sugar," Harry told him, slightly put out.

Warily, Draco took another sip of the coffee, but immediately placed it on the edge of the table. "Well, starting now, I do."

Harry nodded and went to pour some cream and sugar into his coffee. He figured if Draco was still the same person he was in their sixth year, they would have a lot more important problems than how he liked his coffee, so he decided not to make a big deal out of it. Once he was sure Draco was satisfied with his drink, he sat back down at their table.

'So I guess I have some explaining to do," Harry started awkwardly.

"Clearly," the blond snapped.

Harry reminded himself that Draco was lost and confused and had every reason in the world to be on edge, but that still didn't take away the slight sting from his husband's tone. "Where would you like me to begin?" Harry asked reasonably.

Draco answered without a second thought, "The war."

Glad to be able to deliver some good news, Harry responded, "It's over. Voldemort's gone, for good this time."

Blinking owlishly at Harry, Draco parroted, "He's gone?"

Harry nodded, and felt his heart jump to his throat when Draco smiled broadly, throwing his head back and laughing out loud. During that happy moment, Harry was almost able to convince himself that just maybe their case wasn't so hopeless after all. After another joyous minute, Draco calmed down, tiny smile remaining on his lips, though it was obvious he was embarrassed to have been seen in such a vulnerable state.

"Dumbledore?" he asked quickly.

Harry swallowed thickly. "Dead." And just like that, the moment was gone. Draco paled and began trembling so quickly that Harry didn't even know what to do. "Snape killed him," he blurted out, before cussing and realizing that probably wasn't the way to go about telling him. The trembling stopped, but Draco remained deathly pale as he demanded to know everything that happened.

For the next hour, Harry described in detail what had happened at the Battle of Hogwarts. He treaded carefully when he told Draco of Snape's death, and of his parents' trials. Besides his grip tightening around his coffee cup, Draco showed no emotion throughout the entire story. Afterwards, Harry let the silence consume them, knowing that his husband needed time to process everything.

When it became clear that Draco wasn't going to say anything, Harry added, "You know, I wouldn't have been able to defeat Voldemort without you."

Draco looked up with bloodshot eyes and shot him an unbelieving glance. "What are you going on about?"

"When I was pretending to be dead, I was completely unarmed. I threw myself out of Hagrid's arms, and was just standing there like a total idiot. I had no plan, no wand, and no idea what to do."

Before he could continue, Draco interrupted with a snort. "Of course."

Ignoring him, Harry continued, "But then I heard you call my name, so I looked over. You were running towards me, with everyone in the courtyard watching you, and you threw me your wand. It left you completely unarmed and vulnerable in front of a crowd of angry Death Eaters, but you did it anyway. And I used that wand to kill Voldemort."

Draco sat back in his seat, stunned. "That doesn't sound like me," he finally muttered.

Harry laughed. "Not the sixth year you, no. But it sounds exactly like the you that you are now."

"Yeah, well, unfortunately, that person is a stranger to me. The sixth year me is all that I know." The blond huffed, crossing his arms over his chest childishly.

"Well, the Healer said your memory might come back to you quicker if you go back to your daily routine," Harry started hesitantly, already knowing that this conversation wasn't going to end well by the way that Draco's shoulders tensed and his already morose expression turned sour. "I know you hate me right now, but I really think the best thing for you would be to come back home with me."

Draco gaped at him. "Are you crazy? Not a chance in hell, Potter," he spat. "How am I supposed to know this isn't just some trick? As far as I know, we still hate each other, and I haven't seen any evidence to the contrary." He slammed his hands down on the table and pushed his chair back as he stood. "I will not have you tell me what I should or should not do when every part of my brain is screaming at me to hex you into next week. Proof, Potter. I need proof that I can trust you."

Under any other circumstance, the blond's dramatic exit would have been almost comical, with his pale blue gown blowing out behind him and his too-large hospital slippers making him walk awkwardly, but Harry's mind was too preoccupied to find the humor.

How was he supposed to prove to his husband that they trusted and loved one another? That was the kind of thing people were supposed to do in the beginning of the relationship, not almost four years in. But with a renewed sense of determination, Harry ordered another coffee, sat down, and began to formulate a plan.

* * *

><p>AN: Hope you liked the second chapter! I know it was shorter, and less happened in it, but the next chapter will pick up again. Thank you all SO much for reading. I got great feedback from the first chapter. So many people alerted and favorite this story, it was really encouraging. Thanks again! Please review, it really keeps me going!


	3. Chapter 3

Getting a pensieve into the hospital wasn't nearly as easy as Harry had anticipated. Draco's primary Healer decided that it would be a bad idea to force memories on him so soon, while he was still in such a delicate state of mind. But when Harry set his mind to something, he always saw it through. Using his name to pull strings with the Healer's superiors was not something that he was proud of, but he figured it was a small price to pay in the long run.

The moment Harry walked into Draco's room, the blond was immediately on guard.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

Harry walked over to his bedside slowly, Healer in tow with a small pensieve in her hands. "You're being released soon, Draco. And even though I know you want to go straight back to the Manor, I think it would be best if you returned to your normal life… with me." Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Harry cut him off. "You wanted proof that we love each other. I brought a pensieve."

Draco eyed it skeptically as the Healer placed it onto his lap. "How do I know you haven't altered your memories?"

The brunet huffed and crossed his arms childishly. "Why would I alter my memories to get you to come live with me if we actually still hated each other?"

Though the blond was still glancing warily between Harry and the pensieve, Harry took his silence as opportunity to pull out his wand, place the tip to his temple, and conjure up the memory of the day he proposed. He smiled as he carefully placed the silvery strand into the pensieve, and after another moment of hesitation, Draco began to watch.

Draco almost pulled away the moment he took his first glance in. There he was, a younger, slightly more familiar version of himself, tangled up in bed with the Golden Boy himself. They were just laying there, Draco's head on the other boy's bare chest, tan fingers running through his platinum locks lazily. Something about the domesticity of the scene intrigued him enough to make him continue watching. They looked so comfortable together, as if this was something that happened regularly. As if they really were married.

"Draco?"

He was torn out of his trance by memory Harry. Memory Draco seemed annoyed at the interruption, grunted, and scooted closer to him.

Harry seemed insistent though. "Draco, you know I love you, right?" He was chewing on his lip, he seemed nervous.

"I know. Go back to bed." Draco mumbled.

A few minutes passed by where nothing was said. Draco was practically asleep again, but Harry was wide awake, blinking into the dim light of their bedroom.

Draco thought the memory might be over, and was preparing to pull back, when finally, Harry spoke again.

"Draco, will you marry me?"

Memory Draco seemed considerably less shocked than the current one was. He just chuckled before glancing up at Harry. "C'mon, I know I'm good but a proposal?" Draco choked back his revulsion and continued watching, his interest piqued despite how vulgar the idea of being intimate with Potter seemed.

Harry remained silent and his cheeks turned bright red as he shifted to grab something from his night stand. He pulled it back, a velvet box resting in his palm. Draco immediately shot upright, finally awake. "Merlin, you're serious," he breathed, face remaining carefully blank.

The brunet opened the box to reveal a simple silver band within. He turned to face Draco completely. "I've never been so serious in my life."

Draco shook his head and slid slightly further away. "No. Harry, I've done nothing but hurt people, and you've done nothing but save them. You deserve someone so much better than me."

"This isn't about what's happened in the past or what we deserve. I don't care about that stuff," Harry insisted, reaching out and grabbing Draco's hand. "I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. The only thing I care about is whether or not you feel the same."

Memory Draco stared longingly at the ring for so long that Draco thought for a moment he might actually say no. But finally he looked back to Harry and the widest, most genuine smile Draco could ever remember gracing his own features was blooming across his face. A whispered "yes" was all Harry needed to hear before he threw himself across the bed and pressed his lips passionately against Draco's. The memory started to fade as the two separated and Harry slipped the ring onto Draco's left hand.

Harry was staring at him anxiously as he readjusted himself to his surroundings. For the first time since he had woken up, Draco began to seriously consider the fact that maybe he _was_ actually married to Harry Potter. How the hell that had ever happened was beyond him, but stranger things had happened to him. Maybe.

"Draco?"

Draco glared up at Harry out of habit. His first name sounded so unnatural coming from the Golden Boy. "It's Malfoy," he snapped.

Harry smiled wryly. "Actually, it's Potter."

"I took your last name?" Draco questioned harshly. Harry nodded once. "Why the bloody hell would I do that?" he asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer. The great Malfoy name was probably tainted and stigmatized after the war. Maybe things were bad enough that he changed it willingly.

The brunet just shrugged noncommittally. "Do you believe me now?"

Draco ran a pale hand through his already messy blond hair and grimaced. He knew he looked awful and probably would have been ashamed if it weren't for Potter looking so disheveled as well. His hair looked like it hadn't seen a brush in weeks, his skin was lacking its usual healthy tan, and his clothes were rumpled and he was pretty sure they were the same ones he had been wearing yesterday. Draco's nose scrunched in distaste at the idea of being married to this man.

He was about to refuse to go back to Potter's home when a sudden image from the pensieve hit him like a rogue bludger. Him and Potter, tangled up in the brunet's bed, grinning at each other like there was nothing else in the world that mattered to them. Draco couldn't remember ever being that happy before. And wasn't that what he had been fighting for in the war all those years ago? A chance to be free and happy. He figured he owed it to himself to keep fighting when that memory told him there was a shot that happiness was so close within his reach.

The blond crossed his arms and huffed. Just because he knew this might make him happier in the long run didn't mean that he had to be happy about it _now_.

"Fine," he finally said. Potter, who had been looking more and more disheartened by the second, perked up immediately. "I suppose I believe you."

"And you'll come live with me again?" Potter asked, not doing anything to hide his desperation.

Draco nodded tersely. "Yes, I'll come live with you. When do we leave?"

A/N: For anyone who has stuck with me through the long wait, thank you. Sorry about how long this took, life just completely got in the way and I kind of forgot about this for a while. Hopefully I'll be able to update pretty regularly for a while after this! This chapter's pretty short too, I just wanted to get you guys something. Next chapter will be longer for sure. Thanks again, please review!


	4. Chapter 4

Draco was eerily silent the entire time he was preparing to leave. Every time Harry asked him even the simplest question, he was promptly snarled at and then ignored. Eventually, the brunet decided that getting Draco to agree to move in with him (again) was a big enough step forward that he could handle some hostility for the time being, while his husband sorted through whatever confusion he was dealing with.

Harry was filling out the discharge papers as Draco changed in the bathroom, trying not to think about how his husband might never remember all of the memories they had together. The Healer had told him that with such severe symptoms, there was only about a fifty percent chance he would ever fully be the same. What would they do if Draco didn't eventually remember him? How could Harry make his husband fall in love with him all over again?

He jumped as the bathroom door slammed open against the adjacent wall, revealing a flustered, unhappy Draco.

"Potter, what the bloody hell is this?" he gestured to the outfit Harry had brought for him from their home.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, confused.

Draco tugged at the bottom of his dark green, short-sleeved tee-shirt. It was obvious that the Slytherin logo had once been printed on the shirt in silver, however it was faded from being worn and washed so often. "These _clothes. _I'm wearing jeans and a teeshirt. With sneakers!" he spluttered indignantly.

"And?" Harry pressed on. "Those are some of your favorite clothes. I thought you might like to be comfortable for your first day back home."

The blond scoffed. "I don't feel comfortable, I feel homeless. I look like you," he snapped.

Harry rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the way his blood was boiling and his fists were clenching the clipboard he was holding. Sixth year Draco always knew exactly how to get under his skin. Apparently, that was one talent that the accident hadn't made him forget. "Thanks for that," he answered as calmly as he could. He fixed his attention back on the discharge papers, trying not to take Draco's less than favorable reaction to heart as the man mumbled something incoherent and stormed back into the bathroom.

When he had packed Draco's outfit, Harry's main concern had been time. He didn't like being away from the hospital for so long, even though Draco usually refused to see him. He had thrown what used to be the man's favorite lounging around clothes into a bag, sent a quick letter to Ron and Hermione explaining the strange situation and telling them they would be home later that night, and immediately apparated back. Reflecting on it now, he probably should have seen this coming. Draco in their sixth year was the definition of proper and put-together. Even when they were permitted to dress casually, he was always in slacks and some sort of button down, collared shirt. Harry bit the inside of his cheek and determinedly finished up the discharge forms.

A minute later, Draco emerged from the bathroom again, more calmly this time but no less unhappy. His hair was brushed neatly to the side, his mouth was a hard, tight line, and his eyes were a steely, unforgiving grey. Harry's heart clenched painfully at the sight of him, and for the first time, Harry began to truly doubt whether things would ever go back to normal.

Ten minutes later all the discharge papers had been handed in and the men had been cleared to leave.

Harry turned to Draco and smiled as genuinely as he could in the given situation and asked, "Ready to go home?"

Draco crossed his arms and looked away. "Home. As if that word held any sort of meaning for me anymore."

The brunet forced his smile not to falter and insisted, "After a couple days in our apartment, I know you'll feel at home there. And I'm sure some of your memories will start coming back to you."

"How can you be so sure?" Draco snapped.

"I just am."

For a while Draco didn't say anything, just glared. But then his shoulders sagged and his arms dropped to his sides and he sighed, "I hope you're right, Potter."

Harry nodded and secretly hoped that he was right as well. He held out his hand to Draco, and fought back his sudden urge to cry when his husband flinched away from him. He sighed and kept his hand extended. "You can't apparate on your own yet. And you don't even know where our apartment is. Just let me help you."

Still looking wary and guarded, Draco hesitated before grabbing Harry's forearm. Harry didn't allow himself to dwell on the rejection before he apparated the both of them to their small, cozy home in London.

Draco took his hand off Harry's arm so quickly that the brunet wasn't even sure he had made it all the way back to their house. But there he was, looking slightly seasick in the middle of their living room, already taking everything in with a judgmental eye.

Though the couple had never been short on money, they never felt the need to have a big, grand home. Draco had often told him that their one story apartment felt more like a home to him than the Malfoy Manor ever had. They both enjoyed the intimate, welcoming environment. Sixth year Draco, however, had other ideas.

"This is where I live?" he asked skeptically.

"Where _we_ live, yes," Harry corrected him. "What's wrong with it?"

The blond walked around, examining everything passively. "Are we poor?"

Harry covered up his laugh with a quick cough, cleared his throat and answered, "You're the seeker of one of the most popular Quidditch teams in history, and I'm Head Auror on top of what my parents left me. No, we aren't poor."

"So why do we live like this?" Draco asked disbelievingly. "I feel like I'm in the Weasel's house right now."

"Don't say that," Harry demanded, trying to keep his voice even. "I know in the past you two weren't exactly fond of each other, but Ron's been nothing but a good friend to you for the last two years."

"No," Draco moaned. "Do _not_ tell me I've stooped so low as to be friends with him. And probably Granger, too, I'm guessing."

Harry opened his mouth, prepared to lecture him on how lucky he should feel to have friends as loyal and amazing as Ron and Hermione, when a small popping sound to his right distracted him. _Speak of the devil_, he thought as his two best friends appeared in his kitchen. Before he could get a word in edgewise, Hermione had launched herself at Draco, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Horrified didn't begin to explain the look on Draco's face as Hermione cried into his shoulder about how worried they had been about him. When he had enough time to realize exactly what was going on, he all but shoved the girl off of him. With one last murderous glare at everyone in the room, he stormed off into the next room over, the master bedroom, and slammed the door behind him.

Several moments passed in a tense silence before Harry dropped himself into the plush armchair in the corner of the living room and sighed for the hundredth time that day. "You guys shouldn't have come," he said quietly.

Ron, still staring at the door behind which Draco was currently brooding, asked in amazement, "He really doesn't remember us at all?"

Harry chuckled without humor. "I wish we had gotten so lucky. He remembers us. He remembers how much he hates us, at least."

Hermione walked over to the loveseat next to him and sat down. "So he doesn't remember anything past sixth year?" she asked as Ron joined them as well.

Harry shook his head. He took off his glasses and ran his hands over his face. "Nope. Nothing."

The redhead looked thoughtful for a moment before adding cheerfully, "Well look on the bright side! He doesn't remember any of the stupid stuff you've done for the past five years! You get the chance to start over new and avoid making the same mistakes."

"There's that," Harry conceded, "But he does remember how cruel I was when we were sixteen. It was a miracle that he agreed to be with me the first time around, how am I going to make him fall in love with me again?"

"Good point. And if anything you've gotten even less attractive since then." Ron yelped and rubbed his arm, glowering at an entirely too innocent looking Hermione. Harry laughed quietly and genuinely for the first time in days.

Hermione reached out and grabbed Harry's hand. "I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you, Harry. But don't give up on him, even if he is hard to reach. Remember that this is going to be just as confusing for him as it is for you, probably even more so. He will remember us, Harry. He has to. We're a family, no matter what." Harry smiled and squeezed the girl's hand, eternally grateful for her seemingly endless wisdom.

Shortly after, his friends decided it would be best if they left Draco and Harry alone for the night, and after a long, tight hug from Hermione and a strong clap on the shoulder from Ron, they were gone. Harry took a deep breath and ran his hands through his messy hair, collecting his thoughts before heading into the bedroom.

Draco sat on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Harry felt his heart drop when he noticed the slight trembling of his husband's shoulders and fingers.

"Draco…" Harry started softly. The blond's head snapped up immediately to shoot him an icy glare, though his eyes were suspiciously red. "I'm sorry," he continued. "I know how hard this must be for you-"

"Oh, really?" Draco interrupted. "You know what it's like to wake up thinking you're sixteen, and finding out that you're actually twenty-one? You understand how it feels to realize that you're married to the most despicable, self-righteous git on the planet?" He stood up and began to take angry strides towards Harry, knowing that his words were cutting him like knives. "And then, not only do you have to come home to a strange apartment with a man you despise, you're told that his vile friends are now your friends as well, and you have to deal with the mudblood clinging to you like a leech?"

Harry stood there, paralyzed and speechless, as Draco poked an accusing finger at his chest. "Don't you _dare_ tell me you know how hard this must be, because you don't, Potter. You don't, and you never will."

He was breathing heavily by the end of his rant, exhausted by the sheer force of the anger he was feeling. Slowly it was ebbing away, and he set his jaw and walked back to the bed, sitting on it as he was when Harry first walked in.

The brunet was almost too nervous to breathe, and the silence between them stretched on for several long moments. As soon as Harry took one shaky step towards his husband, however, the blond ordered quietly, "Get out, Potter. Leave me alone."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Harry started, and began to walk further into the room, but one venomous, hateful look in his direction was enough to stop him in his tracks.

"Don't you understand, Potter?" Draco seethed. "I don't want you here. I know that hearing this will damage that huge ego of yours, but the only way you can help me right now is by not being anywhere near me. _Get. Out_."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek so hard that he tasted the metallic twang of his own blood. He nodded once and left the room, making sure to slam the door shut hard on his way out.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yay a new chapter! Thanks to all the reviewers and people who faved or alerted after the last chapter, it definitely helps encourage me to write faster! The next chapter should be out within the week, and is probably gonna be just a series of Harry's flashbacks from their relationship. ^^ Thanks again everyone! Don't forget to review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So this chapter is one hundred percent flashbacks, which should be pretty obvious. It's also a but longer than usual, yay! Hopefully next chapter will be out this weekend. As always, thanks for the support, you don't even know how much I appreciate it! Don't forget to leave a little feedback, I love hearing what you guys are thinking about the story and where you hope it's heading. :)**

* * *

><p>It was September, and Harry was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Dark Lord was gone for good, his friends were safe, and the four houses were all but united. Things for Harry were better than ever.<p>

That didn't change the fact, however, that Harry was still hopeless at Potions. And Savior of the wizarding world or not, he still needed to pass his N.E.W.T.s to get a decent job.

"Hermione," he whispered to the girl next to him who steadfastly ignored him. "Hermione, which one of these is sneezewort?"

"Figure it out, Harry. I don't want to get in trouble," she hissed back without lifting her gaze from the green liquid bubbling inside her cauldron.

Harry looked across the table to Ron hopefully. His potion, however, was a dangerous red and was bubbling viciously as he ran to go get the professor's help, so Harry utterly out of options. He sighed and picked up a blueish root at random, wishing he at least knew what color sneezewort was. Just as he was about to drop the root into his potion, a pale, thin hand reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Unless your intention is to set fire to the entire classroom, I wouldn't do that if I were you, Potter."

The brunet just stared up at Draco Malfoy, confused and definitely a bit skeptical. This was the first time the Slytherin had said a word to him since they had gotten back to school two weeks ago, and Harry wasn't too sure of where they stood. He flashed back quickly to a brave blond boy throwing him his wand, leaving himself vulnerable. He blinked quickly, readjusting himself to the Draco that was standing in front of him, face blank as he grabbed a few leaves off of a root to Harry's left and crushed them with the mixing bowl. He scooped up the leaves and threw them into Harry's cauldron before the brunet could react, and turned back to his own table.

Harry stared dumbly after him for a moment longer, oblivious to Hermione's accusing glare. When he glanced back to his cauldron, it was the same acid green color as Hermione's. He was distracted from his thoughts of this new, helpful Malfoy by the distressed cry of the professor running over to Ron's cauldron.

"Weasley, I'm fairly certain you couldn't have made a bigger mess of this potion if you had tried," he scolded as Ron's ears turned red. "Look at Ms. Granger's and Mr. Potter's potions!" he exclaimed. "They're perfectly made Befuddling Draughts! Next time, ask your friends for help, they clearly know what they are doing," he insisted.

Harry could feel the smugness rolling off of Hermione in waves as the professor ordered them all out of the classroom so that he could safely dispose of whatever dangerous potion Ron had managed to create. His two best friends were so preoccupied that they didn't even notice when he slunk down the hallway in the opposite direction, finding Draco and his friends with surprising ease.

"Malfoy," he called, and the entire group turned around. Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle, and Blaise Zambini all stood just slightly ahead of Draco, as if ready to protect him if need be, though none of them looked as malicious as they used to.

Malfoy raised one slender eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Can I help you, Potter?"

"Apparently, you can," Harry shot back and the blond dropped his arms to his sides.

"Are you actually here to yell at me for helping you?" Draco asked disbelievingly. "Is it a blow to your pride to be helped by a Slytherin or some rubbish like that?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed, "Of course not. I just wanted to thank you," he said sincerely. Draco remained silent and Harry was suddenly hyper aware of the three extra sets of eyes dissecting and analyzing his words and actions. "Er, can we talk alone for a minute?"

The Slytherins all simultaneously turned to seek approval from Malfoy, who was still clearly the leader of their group. Harry had to actively remind himself not to roll his eyes as one by one, they shot him menacing glares before leaving upon Malfoy's request. Honestly, after everything that had happened, Harry couldn't really blame them for not trusting him.

"Don't apologize."

Harry snapped out of his musings and returned his attention to the boy in front of him. "What?"

Draco furrowed his brow in annoyance and Harry could see the physical pain it caused him to not immediately snap back at him. "I said don't apologize," he said through gritted teeth.

"Why not?"

The blond shrugged and turned his attention to a particularly fascinating brick on the wall. "I owed you."

Blinking owlishly, Harry wondered if he had mistakenly ingested some of his Befuddlement Draught, causing his confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"From last year, in the Room of Requirement," Draco explained quickly, still refusing to look in his direction. "You saved my life, so I owed you. Though I don't suppose fixing your rubbish potion exactly repays a life debt."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So can we be done with this now? I do have places to be," Draco said, starting to leave.

Harry quickly caught up with him and grabbed the sleeve of his robes. "Wait. But you saved my life that day, too. In the courtyard, by tossing me your wand. Doesn't that make us even?"

Draco considered this for a moment, then smirked at him, grey eyes glinting. "You're right. We were even, don't know why I didn't think of that myself. But let's not forget when you almost killed me in the bathroom last year. And how I just fixed your potion. Looks like you owe me now, Potter." He was grinning in earnest by the time he finished talking. His pale hand grabbed Harry's tan one and disentangled it from his robes. He cast one last accomplished smirk in the brunet's direction before heading off towards his next class.

"Hey, Malfoy!" Harry called once more.

The boy turned around and ran his hand through his platinum blond hair before asking, "Are you going to let me get to my next class or am I going to have to petrify you so I can make it all the way to the stairs?"

Ignoring him, Harry asked, "That life debt thing was really bothering you, wasn't it?"

"Rest assured, whatever stress that caused me is well worth the knowledge that now you're in my debt instead. And trust me, I do plan on calling in the favor."

Harry chuckled. "I wouldn't expect anything else, Malfoy."

And for the third time, Draco walked away. This time, Harry didn't stop him.

* * *

><p>It was mid-November, and the air at Hogwarts was chilly enough now that the students rarely ventured outside without at least a light jacket.<p>

Harry Potter was desperate for sleep, but all he had been doing for the past two hours was tossing and turning and listening to all of his friends snore in the beds surrounding his own. He sighed resignedly, and reached out to grab his glasses from the bedside table. He figured maybe a mug of cocoa would help him relax. He knew the house elves in the kitchen would happily make it for him, but it was well past curfew. Shuffling through the drawer in the bedside table, he pulled out a blank piece of parchment and his wand.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered as quietly as he could. Ink suddenly filled the parchment and came to life, showing him every person who was still up and wandering the castle. He scanned the map quickly, finding the path to the kitchens mostly clear.

He jumped out of bed and began to navigate the castle as quickly and quietly as he could. He didn't pass a single soul on his way to the kitchens and realized, as he asked a house elf for a mug of cocoa, that this was probably one of the most unexciting curfew breaking stories of all time. A small pop signified the house elf's arrival, and he took the steaming mug carefully, thanking the elf for his time.

He stuffed the map in his pocket so he could grab the cup with both hands, blowing on the burning hot liquid before taking a small sip. He sighed happily, warmth filling his stomach and immediately relaxing him. He had taken no more than three steps out of the Great Hall when he heard footsteps approaching from the stairs. His heart jumped into his throat and he hid quickly behind a suit of armor nearby. Instantly, Harry regretted his decision to not bring his Invisibility Cloak. Covering his mouth with one hand to ensure he wasn't breathing too loudly, he decided to sneak a glance out to the entrance hall to see who was approaching.

He almost dropped his mug when he saw that it was Malfoy walking quickly across the floor towards the large double doors that led outside. For a moment, Harry considered following him to see what he was up to, but shook that idea off quickly. That would feel far too much like years in the past, and the last few months had been so different. The two weren't best friends or anything of the sort, but they were cordial. They exchanged nods in the hall when they passed each other and no longer spent their time brooding about how awful the other was. With that in mind, Harry stepped out into the open, directly in the path of the blond.

Malfoy jumped back three paces, froze in place, and then let out a huge sigh. "Trying to scare the bloody hell out of me, Potter?"

"No," Harry whispered back, smirking as he walked closer to him. "But it's good to know that I can still have that effect on you."

"What are you doing out of bed?" Malfoy questioned harshly. "It's nearly one in the morning."

"Getting cocoa," he explained, lifting the mug. "I could ask you the same thing."

Malfoy smirked. "Cocoa?"

Harry shrugged. "It helps me sleep. And you didn't answer my question."

"You didn't ask one."

"It was implied."

"Not clearly enough, obviously."

The brunet sighed, defeated. "Fine. You don't have to tell me. I'm just going to go to bed."

"You're not nearly as fun to tease as you used to be," Draco pointed out. When Harry just shrugged. He continued, "I'm going out to the lake. I couldn't sleep."

Harry nodded and a moment passed in silence. Unsure of how far he could push this new camaraderie, Harry asked warily, "Can I join you?"

Almost immediately, Draco nodded once and then started towards the entrance, much more quickly than he was going before. Harry was practically jogging to keep up with him, struggling not to spill his drink. The walk to the lake seemed like it took an eternity, despite the pace they were going, and was filled with a slightly uncomfortable silence.

By the time they had actually reached the lake and sat down in the grass next to it, Harry only had about half a cup full of cocoa and several bright pink burns on his hands. Sighing, he took a final sip of the liquid and then set the mug aside, deciding instead to focus on the incredible amount of stars in the sky.

Harry wasn't sure how long that sat outside like that, him staring up at the night sky and Draco swirling two fingers in the cold lake water, but before he knew it, his eyes were fluttering closed and he laid back in the grass, wondering why he had never thought to come out here at night before.

"This will be my first holiday season without my parents."

Malfoy's voice snatched him back from the brink of unconsciousness, though he couldn't be completely sure he didn't just dream it up.

"Your mother won't be home?" Harry asked tiredly, forcing himself to sit back up.

Malfoy whipped his wide-eyed gaze towards him, as if surprised that Harry was actually awake. Some color flooded his pale face as he drew his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees, wrapping his arms around himself. "She's visiting some distant relatives in America, if you can believe that. I didn't even know I had family there." He sighed. "Mother was supposed to be home by Thanksgiving, but now she might not be back until January."

All at once, the gravity of what was happening hit Harry like a freight train. He looked so young, curled around himself, talking sadly about his parents not coming home in time for the holidays. But he wasn't young. This wasn't the same boy that had stepped off the Hogwarts Express eight years ago, pointed chin raised haughtily in the air, sure of himself and the world around him. This was a man hardened and humbled by life, but not ruined. Malfoy was here tonight, confiding in him instead of Pansy or Goyle or any other Slytherin, which was something the old Draco never would have done in a million years. And just like that, any last prejudice Harry held against Malfoy was gone, written off as a different person entirely.

Which was why it was without an ounce of doubt or sarcasm that Harry asked Draco if he would like to stay at the castle with him during break.

"I know it won't compare to having the holidays at home with your parents," he stated when Draco made no indication that he had even heard him. "But I always stay here, and it really is quite nice. The food on Thanksgiving is like heaven, and the Great Hall is always gorgeous on Christmas morning. I usually stay with Ron but he's going home this year and I don't want to intrude so it'll just be me now. I'm not trying to guilt you into staying or anything, but it would be nice to have company and-" Harry cut himself off, blushing furiously and eternally grateful for how dark it was outside. He doubted he had ever said that much to Malfoy at once in all of the eight years they had known each other. It was like he didn't even know how to act anymore around this new Draco.

After a few more seconds of uncomfortable silence, Draco answered quietly, "Pansy invited me to stay at her house for the holidays."

Harry felt his stomach drop and suddenly realized how badly he didn't want to be all alone in the castle over break. "Oh, alright. That should be good then," he mumbled awkwardly, ignoring Draco's curious gaze by staring determinedly at the lake.

Without taking his eyes off of Harry, Draco added, "You know, Pansy's mum is actually a terrible cook. And Pansy once burned her eyebrows off trying to make pumpkin pie."

Harry laughed and turned to the blond. "How is that even possible?"

"Merlin only knows," Draco stated very seriously. His unwavering stare was starting to make Harry extremely uncomfortable. It was as if the blond could see right through him.

"I wish you the best of luck, then," Harry smiled, trying unsuccessfully to draw a reaction from the other boy.

Malfoy smiled suddenly as if he'd figured something out, and then sat back, leaning on his hands. "On second thought, it would probably be safest if I stayed here for the holidays."

"What?"

"I mean, nothing good can come from a Parkinson cooking my meals. And if you were left unattended in the castle for months, who knows what kind of chaos I would come back to. I think I have no choice but to stay here with you." Draco nodded once, as if to assure himself he were making the right choice.

Try as he might, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that Malfoy was doing this purely for Harry's benefit. The idea of that made him smile foolishly up at the bright stars.

When the silence had stretched on long enough, Harry said conversationally, "I have to say, it's a little odd being friends with you after so many years of thinking you were a right git."

"Who ever said we were friends, Potter?" Malfoy snapped, though there was little venom in his words.

Harry bit his lip, feeling foolish for expecting so much to change all at once.

"We kind of are, aren't we?"

The corners of Harry's lips tugged upwards involuntarily. "Yeah, I think so."

* * *

><p>It was Christmas morning, and snow was falling heavily outside on the Hogwarts grounds.<p>

Harry woke up in the Slytherin common rooms, a result of losing a competitive tournament of wizard chess, and felt surprisingly comfortable. He sought out Draco, who had been his constant companion for the past five weeks. Confused and slightly disappointed when he didn't immediately see the boy, he sat up on the plush green couch and stretched out, feeling his back crack satisfyingly.

"Happy Christmas, Harry." Draco was standing in the entryway to the boys dorm, smiling genuinely. Harry couldn't remember ever seeing the boy smile like that before this month.

"Happy Christmas, Draco," Harry returned excitedly. "We have presents to open!" he pointed to the extravagantly decorated tree in the corner with two small piles of gifts underneath. He wondered if he would ever figure out how the elves always did all the decorations overnight.

Harry watched Draco unwrap a package of sweets from Pansy, the newest edition of Quidditch Through the Ages from Goyle, new sets of Potions test tubes and even a new cauldron from Blaise, and a new broomstick from his mother. The two boys ogled it and almost ran outside barefoot in their pajamas to go test it out, but Draco reminded Harry that he had yet to open his presents.

Ron and his family had sent him the annual Weasley family sweater, knit red with a golden 'H' sewn in. Draco had the decency to not laugh, but only just barely. Next he opened a package of assorted Weasley Wizard Wheezes from Hermione, and a penny wrapped in a tube sock from his uncle. He tossed that away quickly, before Draco could say anything about it. Not that he didn't already know how dreadful Harry's aunt and uncle were, but it was still a constant source of embarrassment. Finally, Hagrid had sent him a miniature version of the Hungarian Horntail he had faced off against during fourth year. The boys laughed as they watched the dragon roam about, trying unsuccessfully to set the carpet ablaze with its virtually nonexistent fire breath.

When Harry turned back to Draco, the blond was holding one last present; a small box with red wrapping paper and a gold bow.

"I got you something," Draco told him, holding out the box. Harry smiled brilliantly and started to unwrap the present slowly, trying not to rip the wrapping paper too much.

His heart thudded painfully when he saw what was inside. The snitch was unlike anything he had seen before. The golden ball shot out of the box, hovering inches from his face. Its wings were slightly larger than an average snitch's, and they were completely red. He reached out to touch it, and it allowed him to grab it without any difficulty. His name was engraved in a slanted print. The letters glowed red when he ran his finger over them. He stared up at the blond, slack jawed and speechless.

The blond cleared his throat. "It's uh- it's personalized to you. I mean obviously, since it has your name on it. But it's not a normal snitch. It won't try to escape from you or fly away or anything. And it won't let anybody else touch it." Draco reached out to prove his point, and true to his word, the snitch vibrated wildly in Harry's hand and escaped, only to fly dutifully by Harry's ear, out of Draco's reach. "And that's my handwriting," Draco added, turning pink and Harry grabbed the snitch once more to run his fingers over his name. So even though the blond couldn't touch the snitch, he had put a bit of himself into it.

"Draco…. This is the best Christmas present I've ever gotten," he told the boy sincerely. "I mean, I can't even believe this. The wings are red, how did you manage that? And they seem bigger, but that could just be me seeing things. And then the handwritten name, and that it's just mine and it won't leave me. I just can't even tell you how much this means-"

"I love you."

The words seemed to echo in the big, empty, silent common room. And suddenly Harry hoped that the silence could go on forever because he just wanted to keep hearing those words echoing all around him, because nothing could ever be so painfully beautiful.

Harry leaned forward and cupped Draco's face in his hands and then a moment later Draco's lips were on his and Draco's hands were on his hips and the snitch was flying over their heads like a makeshift mistletoe and everything was absolutely perfect.


	6. Chapter 6

When Harry woke up the next morning, he was warm and content from his dreams. But when he reached out beside him and all he felt was a throw pillow, the cold, harsh reality of what was happening was suffocating. He sat up quickly, wondering if he would ever get used to sleeping on the couch in the living room.

He checked the time and then glanced at the closed door to his bedroom, knowing that he had at least another hour until Draco woke up. He forced himself up off the couch and wandered into the kitchen. As much as Draco hated mornings, he had always loved breakfast, and Harry really owed him for the terrible homecoming yesterday. He cringed and bit his lip at the thought of their fight last night. It had been years since either of them had spoken to each other like that.

Sighing, he threw himself into cooking a delicious meal, finally distracting himself from his situation. Half an hour later he had cooked scrambled eggs, sausage links, bacon, and pancakes, and had them laid out on the table with silverware and a pitcher of orange juice. Coffee was brewing in the coffee pot nearby, giving the whole kitchen a cozier feel. Everything smelled amazing. He stood back and observed his work, shrugged, and added a few flowers to the center of the table. A little overachieving never hurt anyone.

He was just getting ready to perform a warming charm to keep the food hot until they were ready to eat when Draco emerged from the bedroom.

"Oh," Harry jumped. "You surprised me. You're up early."

Draco checked the clock on the wall and looked back, confused. "It's ten thirty."

Harry chuckled nervously. "Yeah, you usually aren't this awake until around eleven, sometimes even noon."

The blond scrunched his nose. "That's awful."

Harry shrugged. "I've tried telling you that before, but your team always has practices so late I'm not surprised you need so much sleep."

Draco nodded and looked at the table as if just noticing all the food. "Do we have a house elf?" he asked, glancing around as if one might pop out in front of him at any moment.

"No, I made this," Harry said proudly. "It's all your favorite breakfast foods." Suddenly, he frowned and turned red. "Or at least they were. I mean I guess I probably should have asked you what you wanted for breakfast since I don't really know what your favorites are anymore but I just-"

"Calm down, Potter, your hair is turning grey" Draco half-joked as he sat down at the table. "This is fine."

The brunet grit his teeth and nodded, pouring them each a cup of coffee. After a moment of hesitation, he added some cream and sugar to Draco's cup. He handed the cup to his husband before taking the seat opposite him. He watched with some satisfaction as the blond took a sip of the coffee and sighed contentedly. He picked up his fork and ate a bite of his eggs before looking up to glare at Harry. "What?"

Harry blinked owlishly, caught off guard. "Huh?"

"You're staring at me like I'm a three headed dog, Potter," Draco told him, surprisingly calm.

"Oh, sorry," he said, realizing it was true. "I guess I'm just trying to figure this all out, you know?"

A muscle in Draco's strong jaw twitched, but he made no other acknowledgment that he had even heard Harry. After taking a few more bites of sausage he gestured to the table and asked, "Do you always do all this?"

Harry shook his head. "Not always. Only after I've been a colossal prat like I was last night."

Draco leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. One slender eyebrow raised in challenge. "And does that happen often?"

Harry almost choked on the sip of coffee he had just taken. "No," he answered once he had composed himself. "We never fight like that, and I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize."

The brunet almost got carried away with the nostalgia that accompanied those words. Except the first time they had been spoken, it felt like a door was opening for something new and exciting. And this time, it felt like just the opposite.

"Why not?" he asked quietly.

Draco chewed slowly on a bite of pancakes and swallowed before answering, "Don't worry about me, okay, Potter? I can handle this. Just go about your normal routine."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, glancing at the clock. He had been planning on calling in sick to work today. "I can stay home if you want me to."

"No," the blond insisted. "Go to work, Potter. Just.." he hesitated, looking around the unfamiliar house. "Just tell me, what is it that I do all day?"

"Well," Harry closed his eyes for a moment, imagining what a typical day at the Potter house was like. "You always wake up to have coffee with me before I go to work."

Draco groaned and sunk into his seat. "I sound like a perfectly nice housewife."

Harry ignored him pointedly and continued, "Then you would check your mail, write letters, pay the bills, stuff like that. But uh, guess you don't remember any of our bank numbers or anything, so I guess I'll do that for a while." He scratched his neck awkwardly as Draco stared at him, clearly unimpressed with his schedule. "Then you would head down to the Quidditch pitch and practice flying for hours before your team even met for practice."

As expected, Draco's eyes finally lit up at this. "Am I really on the Falmouth Falcons, then?"

Harry smiled. "Yep. Best seeker they've had in over a century. If you want, I can show you where the Quidditch pitch is."

Though Draco was grinning from the praise, he shook his head. "No, not today. Maybe tomorrow. Just go to work, I'll clean this up."

The brunet man hesitated, but nodded. He really didn't want to leave his husband alone, but Draco would never forgive him if he didn't give the man his independence. "Alright, if you're sure." He stood and started towards Draco, bending down to kiss his forehead. Just when he realized what he was doing the blond jerked away violently, staring steadfastly at the clock on the wall.

"Leave now, you don't want to be late," Draco snapped, though Harry was pretty sure the man had no idea what time he needed to be at work. Realizing he was still right, Harry looked down at his husband, nodding and patting him very awkwardly on the back before all but running to the bedroom to get ready. He got dressed in record time and apparated to work before Draco had even finished cleaning the dishes.

When he heard the telltale pop from Harry disapparating, Draco sighed in relief and looked at the half-empty dishes in front of him. All he could think was how in Merlin's name this had happened to him. Here he was, a sixteen year old boy trapped in a twenty one year old body, cleaning up dishes left over from his breakfast with Harry Potter. And he couldn't remember a single thing that would have made this make any sense to him. If this situation making sense was even possible.

He left the rest of the dishes on the table in order to go exploring. He wondered in passing why they didn't have a house elf, and then felt his blood boil when he realized it was probably related in some way to Granger's ridiculous moral code. He walked back out into the living room and took a look at the decorations. Most of their trinkets were red or silver, a tribute to both of their houses, he supposed. He stopped at a framed picture hanging on the wall. Harry had his arms wrapped around him, and they were looking at each other, laughing. Harry ducked down and pressed a kiss to Draco's cheek as the blond beamed out of the photo. The more Draco looked at the picture, the more he felt like he was watching someone else's relationship. There was a couple in the photograph, happy and clearly in love, but it wasn't him. It was someone from a past life that no longer existed. He grabbed the picture frame off the wall and tossed it face down onto the coffee table in the center of the room.

Draco quickly moved on into the next room, one he had yet to see. It was an office of some sort, with countless bookshelves lined floor to ceiling with books on every subject imaginable. He scanned the bookshelf that seemed to be dedicated entirely to Quidditch, even a few books on his own Quidditch career, before noticing the pensieve in the corner of the room. He walked over to it, noticing a small piece of parchment stuck on it that said, in barely legible handwriting, "More Proof".

When he peered into the pensieve, it was clear there was already a memory swirling around inside. He thought back briefly to the picture in the living room and wondered if he even wanted to see more proof. After contemplating for another minute, curiosity got the best of him and he looked through the pensieve.

The memory started right away, and it was obvious what this memory was of: their wedding. The two men were both in their best tuxes, and Harry actually looked well-groomed for the first time that Draco could ever remember. They were under a tent in some backyard Draco didn't recognize, and before he got a chance to see who he recognized that had attended, he was distracted by Harry clearing his throat.

"I promise to make you happy," Harry started. Memory Draco already looked so happy he could die. It made current Draco more than a little uncomfortable. "I promise to accept you, under any circumstances. I promise to keep you in the present, and never let you forget that the past is in the past. I promise to love you unconditionally, even when times are hard. I promise to never forget that this love is pure and rare, and I promise to never give up on us, because I know that no matter what, we will always find our way back to each other."

It was clear that Memory Draco was choked up, and even the current Draco found it hard to keep a lump from forming in his throat. How could anyone love him so much, considering everything that he had done? Especially Harry Potter himself. He chewed on his lip as Draco reached out to grab Harry's hands, and began his speech.

"I promise to not be intimidated by how good your vows were, and to try my best anyway." Everyone in the crowd laughed, and Harry beamed at him, squeezing his hands. "I promise to always have the patience that this relationship demands. I promise to love those who you love, and accept them as you have accepted me. I promise to help you love life, and to make sure you never have nightmares again. I promise to smile when you smile, and cry when you cry. I promise that for the rest of our lives, I will faithfully love you, and always call wherever you are my home."

The two men were positively glowing as the officiant asked, "Harry, do you take Draco Malfoy to be your lawfully wedded spouse, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," he answered immediately.

"And Draco, do you take Harry Potter to be your lawfully wedded spouse, for as long as you both shall live?" He asked, turning to the blond.

"I do."

"Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you legally wed. You may now kiss your husband," he nodded and smiled at Harry.

Draco winced and looked away, but from the reaction of the audience, he assumed that the kiss was one to remember. The only problem was that he didn't, and no amount of watching memories would change that.

After removing himself from the pensieve, Draco finally decided to do what any other wizard in his position would have done ages ago: he changed into the largest, most comfortable pair of sweatpants he could find, threw himself onto his bed, and sobbed into his pillow for a good, long time.

* * *

><p>"Where the bloody hell have you been?" Seamus Finnigan asked the moment Harry dropped his briefcase onto his desk.<p>

"Home," Harry responded as calmly as he could manage, sitting and beginning to rifle through the countless messages on his desk.

Seamus turned an unhealthy shade of red. "Home? You're the Head Auror, Harry, you can't just stay home whenever you feel like it! It's been so hectic around here the past few days and you've just been relaxing at home?"

"Draco's not well," Harry spat out through gritted teeth. "I'm sorry if my absence has inconvenienced you, Finnigan, but I would have thought that I could trust you with a little responsibility, considering you're second in charge."

"Well, sure, I can handle some extra work, Harry, but there's a reason you're the Head Auror and I'm not," Seamus pointed out, raking his fingers through his hair and forcing himself to calm down. "Look, I'm sorry to hear about Draco. Tell him we're all hoping he gets well real soon. But we need you here, mate. I can't do both of our jobs."

Harry sighed and nodded. "I understand you need me, and I'll try my best to be here as often as possible. But I need to be with Draco. I'm going to ask Ron to step up for a while to help you run things, alright?"

Seamus nodded. "Alright then, Harry. I'm sure you know what you're doing."

The moment the door shut behind his co-worker, Harry slumped back into his chair and groaned. Did he know what he was doing? He needed his job and it was obvious that his job needed him. But he would be totally useless here while his mind was so wrapped up in his home life. He longed for simpler times, when he would wake up with a husband who remembered and loved him, went to work and did his job well, and came home to curl up next to his love at night, peaceful and content.

Would his life ever be so simple again?


	7. Chapter 7

Draco didn't know how he had ended up here, he really didn't. One minute he had been in his bed, crying like a baby, wondering if his life could get any worse, and then the next minute he was marching towards the fireplace, grabbing some Floo powder, and yelling out the address of the only person he knew he could count on to help him out.

So there he was, sitting in the middle of the Parkinson living room, waiting for Pansy to arrive. Her mother had been very polite in telling him that she no longer lived there, though it was obvious that she was confused about why he didn't already know that. She had run off to contact her daughter, and returned a few short minutes later with a cup of tea and news that Pansy was already getting ready to come over.

The longer he sat there, sipping his tea, the more he felt slightly wrong and out of place, as if there was a reason he shouldn't be there. And why hadn't Pansy come to see him yet, anyway? His accident had been all over the Daily Prophet, surely she must have seen it by now. If they were still as close as they were sixth year, why hadn't she come to visit?

He had just set down the cup of tea and was eyeing the fireplace that could take him back to Potter's place (he had yet to get used to calling it his home as well) when a small pop resounded throughout the room. He stood up and suddenly there was Pansy, already crying and throwing her arms around his neck. He had a distant sense of deja vu from the previous night, but unlike then, he responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around her too-thin waist.

"Draco, darling, how have you been?" she asked, pulling back to look him over head to toe. He flushed slightly, realizing he was still wearing baggy grey sweatpants and a plain black teeshirt, but if Pansy noticed how underdressed he was, she had the courtesy not to comment on it.

"I've been better," he answered honestly.

She smiled at him and nodded. "I can tell. I'm just so glad you're alright. We've all been so worried since we read about what happened in the papers."

"Yeah, I can tell, what with all the flowers and letters and visits I've been receiving," he retorted accusingly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You know we would have!" she insisted, sitting heavily on the plush white couch. "But we just…"

Draco sat beside her and pushed on, "Just what? Forgot my address? Lost your owls? Ran out of Floo powder?"

"Draco," she started slowly, brown eyes sad and guarded. "You haven't spoken to me, Blaise, or Goyle in almost two years. We didn't know if you would want to see us."

"Two years?" the blond shouted. "That's ridiculous. Why would I ever stop talking to you three? You've been my best friends since we were eleven."

Pansy placed her hand on his knee comfortingly. "I know, sweetie. We've all missed you more than you can imagine."

"But why?" Draco asked again. "Why did I stop talking to you?"

"Well," Pansy started, looking anywhere but directly at the man next to her, "I guess it started when you told us you were dating Harry Potter. We weren't exactly the greatest support system… And it just sort of spiraled from there."

Draco got the distinct feeling that he wasn't being told the entire truth, but accepted the scrap of information anyway. "I suppose I understand. If Blaise tried to tell me he was dating the git when we were still in Hogwarts, I don't know if I would have laughed in his face or hexed him into next week."

Pansy nodded. "He didn't react much differently. But I swear Draco, we never stopped loving you. We said and did a lot of awful things to each other back then, but that didn't change that you were our best friend, and you still are."

Draco reached out and grabbed the girl's hand. Whatever had happened between them, it seemed unreal to him that they were never able to work it out. Slytherins stuck together, that's just how it was. They shouldn't have split up over anything, especially not over Harry Potter.

He sighed. "So what have you all been up to?"

"Well," she started, lifting her left hand to reveal possibly the biggest diamond ring Draco had ever seen adorning her ring finger. "Blaise and I are engaged. The wedding is next month."

"You and Zambini?" Draco whistled. "I guess congratulations are in order. Though can I admit something to you?"

"Of course," Pansy agreed immediately.

"I always thought back in school that you and I were going to end up married one day," he admitted for the first time to someone other than his mother. He and Pansy had an on and off relationship for almost three years, and even though it wasn't the most important thing on his mind by a long shot, he always figured distantly that they would find their way back to each other out of comfort and familiarity.

The brunet girl looked unsurprised and smiled a little sadly. "I know. So did I. But a lot has changed since we were in school, Draco."

"Clearly," Draco sighed. "I'm married to Harry bloody Potter for Merlin's sake."

"Just remember that there was a reason you married him, okay?" Pansy insisted. "You're a Malfoy at heart, you wouldn't have married him if that wasn't what you truly wanted to do."

Draco dug his fingertips into the fabric of the couch and nodded tersely. "I know. That's what I keep trying to remind myself."

Pansy chewed on her thumbnail for a moment, quietly observing her oldest friend. She sighed and folded her hands in her lap. "It's obvious we have a lot to talk about and catch up on. Why don't you go home, change," she poked at his sweatpants playfully, "start to look a bit more like the Draco we all know and love. Come back later and we'll catch up over dinner, alright?"

Draco smiled sheepishly at the mention of how poorly he was dressed but nodded anyway. "Alright, that sounds good."

"And you should bring Harry."

"You're funnier than I remember."

"I'm not joking."

"I wish you were."

Pansy laughed and reached out to brush a strand of white-blond hair out of Draco's eyes. "Tell your husband that I think this is for the best. To mend old wounds."

"What if I don't want to mend them?" Draco asked as seriously as he could.

"Then you're definitely uninvited."

The blond sighed dramatically and stood up. "It's good to see you still get an insane amount of pleasure from watching me suffer."

Pansy smiled and wrapped Draco once more in a tight hug. "Just the opposite, love. I only want you to be happy." She pulled back and pecked him on the cheek, telling him her and Blaise's new home address before pushing him towards the fireplace and handing him some Floo powder. "Eight o' clock sharp, don't be late! And if you don't bring Harry I promise you you won't be setting foot in my house."

Draco glared before shouting his own address and going home.

When he arrived at his house, it was eerily silent. He walked into the living room and glanced around. No sight of Potter. He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. Maybe he wasn't home from work yet. That would be the perfect excuse for Pansy. He shrugged and started towards the bedroom, but got distracted by a soft scraping sound coming from the kitchen. Walking towards it, Draco realized with a heavy heart that Harry was home after all.

The brunet was sitting at the table facing away from him, holding his head in his hands. Draco debated giving him his privacy, but found that he just wasn't in a generous mood.

"Hello," he greeted Harry calmly, leaning against the doorframe.

Harry spun around in his chair quicker than Draco though possible, and in the next split second, had grabbed Draco in a bone-crushing embrace. The blond froze in his grasp, but just as quickly as Harry had hugged him, he jumped back, turning an impressive shade of red.

"Where were you?" Harry asked, voice rough.

"You know," Draco started in a drawling, languid tone. "That's the third time this week somebody has tried to hug me without any warning at all. Nobody used to hug me. I quite miss that."

"I'm serious, Draco," Harry persisted. "You had me worried half to death!"

"I'm just as serious as you are, Potter," Draco retorted, putting a hand to his chest melodramatically. "I'm just trying to figure this all out, you know. Is the new me that irresistible? Or am I just cuddly? How will I ever know if you don't help me through these difficult times?"

Harry sighed and observed his husband for a moment longer. Cool and collected and smug, just like the old days. "Alright. You don't have to tell me. I'm just your husband, it's really none of my business."

"Merlin, Potter, you used to be much more fun to tease," Draco huffed, dropping himself into the recently vacated kitchen table.

Harry walked towards him skeptically. "Are you sure you don't remember anything at all?"

"My memories of the past five years are as nonexistent as your sense of humor. Why?"

"You've said something like that once before…" Harry answered quietly, walking over to the coffee maker and punching a few buttons to make the coffee start to brew.

Draco sighed. In Hogwarts Harry had always been uptight, but he was always witty enough to keep up with him in an argument. New Harry was distracted and removed almost constantly. It was still entertaining to poke fun at him of course, but how much fun can be had when his favorite target wouldn't fight back?

"I was at Pansy's," the blond admitted, if only to ease some of the tension in the air.

It didn't work. If anything, things only got worse. Like, catastrophically worse.

"Pansy's?" Harry screeched, turning almost purple with anger. "You spent the day with Pansy Parkinson?"

This Harry, however, Draco recognized. Red, shaking with rage, words as pointed as knives. He smirked in anticipation. "Yes, I did. It was quite lovely to catch up with her, seeing as you forced us to lose touch years ago."

"Is that what she told you?" Harry asked in disbelief, a new anger flooding through his veins and making the air around him tremble with the force of his magic. "That it was my fault you and her aren't on speaking terms anymore?"

"Not in so many words, but it was pretty obvious to me that they stopped associating with me because of my relationship with you."

Harry groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting against an upcoming migraine. "Listen, it's clear that Parkinson only told you half of the story. Please just trust me. They're bad news, the lot of them. Just steer clear of them for now."

"Hey!" Draco shouted, rising from his chair. "Those are my friends you're talking about. Just like I've been forced to accept your mudblood friend and the ginger, you are just going to have to accept mine. And it's going to be hard to steer clear of them, since we've got to be at Pansy and Blaise's house in an hour. They've invited us for dinner, and I promised them we'd both be there."

The brunet looked shell shocked and several long moments were spent in a tense, horribly awkward silence. Finally, he grit his teeth and clenched his fists and shook his head. "You don't understand."

"What I understand is that you're a hypocrite who can't handle a dose of his own medicine."

"Draco, if it was anyone but Pansy…" Harry pleaded.

The blond crossed his arms. "Well it's not. So just forget it, I'll go alone. Pansy will understand when I explain to her what an unbelievably stubborn prat you're being," he spat, and started off towards the bedroom taking long, angry strides.

"Wait, just wait!" Harry called after him. He jumped out of his seat and caught hold of Draco's wrist before he managed to close the door to the bedroom. "I'll go," he conceded unhappily.

Draco hesitated, eyeing Harry suspiciously. "Why?" he asked harshly.

"Because I'm scared that if you leave, and I don't come with you, you won't come back," Harry answered honestly. Both men deflated, anger replaced by a subdued, resigned feeling that neither could shake.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek and sighed. "That's not going to happen, Potter. Even if I did have somewhere else to go, this messed up living situation is the best shot I have of getting my life back."

"Then why must you make this so bloody hard for both of us?" Harry asked, clearly drained.

After a moment of hesitation, Draco responded with the same brutal honesty that he had just gotten from Harry. "I don't know."

Searching for a hint of sarcasm in his husband's stunning features and finding none, Harry nodded and dropped his slender wrist.

"Eight o' clock then?"

"Eight o' clock."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I have so much love for all of you reviewers/followers/favoriters it's actually becoming ridiculous. Thank you for all the support guys, it really means a lot to me. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! **


	8. Chapter 8

Harry felt infinitely better after he had showered. Sure, all of his circumstances were the same, but at least he was now relaxed and had a clear head. He walked into the bedroom, using one hand to keep his towel secured around his waist.

"Potter!" Harry jumped back against the door, startled badly enough that he almost dropped his towel. He searched the room to find Draco huddling in a corner in only a pair of briefs, using his hands to cover as much of himself as he could. "Ever heard of knocking?" he snapped, glaring at the intruder.

"Sorry, sorry," Harry muttered, quickly grabbing his clothes from his closet and then racing for the door. "But uh, you know. It's not really anything I haven't seen before."

The brunet was halfway out the door, waiting for the inevitable blowout from that last comment he couldn't stop himself from adding, when the unthinkable happened: Draco straightened out a bit, and actually cracked a smile. He chuckled as if it was against his will and then coughed to cover it, making sure his frown was extra intimidating to make up for his slip.

"Well, still. You should knock. Closed doors are closed for a reason," he reprimanded half-heartedly.

"Sure love, whatever you say," Harry laughed before closing the door firmly behind him.

After changing in the bathroom, Harry tugged on the sleeve of his dark dress robes and winced. He hadn't worn dress robes since the Yule Ball in his fourth year at Hogwarts for a reason, but Draco had insisted that they look their best for this dinner with Pansy and Blaise, and Harry was in no position to object. He looked himself over once more in the full length mirror and frowned. He looked ridiculous, he knew, but this was the best it was going to get.

"I appreciate you dressing up and coming with me."

Harry whirled around to see Draco standing just outside the bathroom door, smoothing out the creases in his dark green dress robes. Even in the silly thing, his husband still managed to look breathtaking. His hair was arranged neatly to the side, keeping the blond locks from falling in front of his striking grey eyes. He looked calm and organized, despite the fact that Harry knew he must have been beyond nervous for this dinner.

"Of course. I know this is important to you," Harry forced out, voice sounding more strained than he intended. Obviously the last thing in the world he wanted to be doing right now was getting ready to go to dinner with his husband, Pansy, and Blaise, but having Draco resent him for skipping it would be far worse.

Through the mirror he could see Draco watching him carefully, inspecting him as if he could hear Harry's every thought. The blond had always been extremely intuitive when it came to Harry's emotions, even when he only used to use the talent to poke him in his most tender areas.

"You know," Draco started, standing and walking over to his husband, leaning against the wall next to the mirror. "Maybe tomorrow I'll wake up and remember everything. But right now, all I know is that I have no parents, no godfather, and a husband who I once despised. Pansy and Blaise are the only ones I'm really sure of right now, and I kind of need that."

"I know, I understand," Harry answered, tugging at his tie hopelessly. As unhappy as he was about it, he knew Draco was right. He needed somebody in his life right now that he remembered, an anchor connecting the present to his past life.

"Let me help you with that, it's painful to watch you struggle with such a simple task," Draco insisted, rushing forward to stop Harry's ongoing battle against his tie. He undid the senseless knot Harry had managed to create with ease and quickly and gracefully tied it so that it hung straight and even down Harry's chest. Draco looked up into Harry's bright eyes, focused so intensely on his own, and the strongest sense of familiarity bubbled up inside of him. He flashed back quickly to his wedding day, and the joy, warmth, and love that so obviously emanated from those same green eyes. It was such a strong, overwhelming picture that for a moment he thought it might even be his own memory, rather than the one he had watched on the pensieve, but he shook his head and took a step back, knowing that he was just getting carried away. "I'll be in the living room," he said. "Come get me when you're ready."

Draco bit the inside of his cheek hard as he walked into the living room and picked up the picture he had dropped onto the coffee table earlier. He honestly didn't understand how the blond man in the photograph was him. The man looked so happy and peaceful and in love. He didn't remember feeling like that, and what he had in his heart for Potter was far from love.

But he wished it wasn't.

He wanted to look at his husband and feel the way he was supposed to and look just like the man in the picture. He thought about a lifetime of having breakfast with Potter and kissing him goodbye before work. He would go to the Quidditch pitch with a smile on his face and be his usual awe-inspiring self and then he would rush home to see Harry and ask him about work and fall asleep curled up next to him, strong tan arm thrown over his waist. He knew he was supposed to want all of that. More than anything, he wished that was what he wanted. But right now, the idea of tying Potter's ties and cleaning up his dishes every day made him want to hurl.

Despite everything, it was impossible not to notice that Harry had changed. His appearance was different, of course. The last five years had shaped him well. Draco flushed as he pictured how the man had looked only in his towel earlier, water dripping down his hair and chest in only the most flattering ways. He shook the distracting thought from his head and tried to focus on other ways he had changed. The man's temper wasn't nearly as bad as it was in their sixth year. He seemed very serious, but once in a while he would crack a joke that even Draco had to laugh at, which was quite the impressive feat. Oh, and also he was in love with Draco. Big time. That was definitely a change.

So maybe this new Harry Potter was one he could get used to. Maybe he could feel like the man in the picture again. Maybe he could get his life back. Maybe, maybe, maybe. His life was one big question mark, and he longed to once again feel like he had some stability and certainty.

"That picture was taken the day of our graduation from Hogwarts."

Draco spun around to face Harry, who was standing mere feet away from him with that same nostalgic smile plastered on his face.

"We've been together since Hogwarts?" Draco asked skeptically. Apparently, all these changes happened much quicker than he had originally assumed.

"Yep," Harry answered. "Since you told me you loved me Christmas of seventh year." Draco's eyebrows raised at that, but he didn't comment so Harry continued, "I went out bought an engagement ring that day," Harry told him, gesturing to their graduation picture.

"After only a few months?" the blond asked distastefully.

Harry shrugged and grinned. "When you know, you know. I didn't propose until two years later, but only because I wanted you to be as sure as I was."

Draco thought back to the memory he watched of Harry's proposal and smirked. After two years of planning the best Potter could do was casually asking while he was half asleep? Figures. Potter never did seem like the particularly creative type. He bit his lip thoughtfully for a moment before hanging the picture back in its proper place on the wall. Whether he liked it or not, this was his life, and taking a picture off the wall wouldn't change that.

"Ready to go?" he asked, double checking Pansy's address.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered dutifully, sounding much more cheerful than he felt.

So the two men grabbed some Floo powder from the bowl beside the fireplace and one at a time walked into the fireplace, said the address as clearly as possible, and the next thing they knew, they were standing in Pansy's entrance hall. The house was incredible, much like the old Malfoy Manor. The floors were marble, the staircase was winding, and the ceilings were probably twenty feet tall. Their steps echoed throughout the room as they ventured further into the room.

It was all very grand, and while Harry was clearly feeling out of place and longing for their homey apartment, Draco was reveling in the atmosphere, reaching out and running two fingers along a polished wooden table covered in elegant picture frames. He noticed with a slight sinking sensation that he was not featured in a single one. It shouldn't have been as surprising as it was, but he was still having trouble grasping the fact that the group hadn't spoken to him in two years. When he was younger, he always just assumed they would stick together throughout their adulthood, and his brain was just having trouble accepting the fact that that hadn't happened at all.

"Draco, love, you came!"

He turned to see Pansy walking quickly towards him, heels clicking on the marble. This time he was prepared for her embrace, and wrapped his arms around her as she kissed his cheek.

"And Mr. Potter," she said cordially, "It's great to see you. I'm so glad you were able to attend."

Harry stuck his hands in his pocket and stared around the room, anywhere but at the girl in front of him. "Call me Harry. And yeah, my pleasure," he told her, grimacing.

Pansy stared at him thoughtfully for a moment, then turned to Draco, smiling. "Blaise is in the kitchen if you want to go see him. Me and Harry will join you in a moment, after we catch up." The blond glanced between the two skeptically, but it was obvious he was no longer welcome, so he huffed and walked off in the direction she pointed him in. At the last moment though, he changed his mind and ducked into a bathroom on the opposite side of the hallway, leaning out just enough so that he would be able to overhear the conversation, and hopefully clear up some of his own questions.

Once he was gone, Pansy's polite smile dropped quickly, replaced by a very disapproving frown. "Look," she started, walking up close to him so that Harry had no choice but to look her in the eye. "I know you still haven't forgiven me for what we did. And that's fine. I'm still not your biggest fan, either. But Draco needs us right now so we're going to be here for him whether you like it or not. So let's not make this any worse for ourselves than it already is, alright?"

"Funny," Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You never quite seemed to care about what Draco needed or wanted in the past, why start now?"

For a moment, he thought that Pansy was about to have a fit. She turned an unnatural shade of red and leaned forward, jabbing her finger into Harry's chest accusingly. "You act like you're so much better than us, Potter. As if you've never made a mistake in your entire life. I don't know what Draco ever saw in you. You haven't changed a bit since Hogwarts, have you?"

"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black," Harry snapped, temper rising quickly. "You have always been a spiteful, manipulative girl and you always will be. Bet you were really excited to hear that Draco couldn't remember what happened two years ago. Convenient for you and Zabini isn't it? Now you get to swoop in and be the hero instead of him hating you both."

The brunet girl let out an enraged little scream before slapping the Golden Boy soundly across the face. The sound of it echoed throughout the room as Draco ran back out to them.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you two?" he questioned harshly, looking back and forth between them. Pansy's face was hard and angry, staring at the wall, grinding her teeth.

Harry ran a finger along his cheek to the corner of his lips, too shocked to still appear angry. He blinked up at the huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling a few times before turning to Draco sadly. "I'm sorry, Draco. I know this dinner meant a lot to you, but I have to go home. I just realized I forgot to do some important paperwork that's due tomorrow for work." He wasn't sure exactly whose sake he was lying for, since obviously everyone in the room knew it was bla tantly untrue. "I hope you understand."

Draco crossed his arms unhappily. "Well, I don't understand. And since I'm guessing neither of you are going to tell me what's happening, I guess I never will. All I know is that I'm staying here." Pansy perked up a bit at this, but still was determined to not even mistakenly glance at Harry.

The brunet man grit his teeth so hard he could feel a headache coming on, but nodded. He turned around to walk outside and get some fresh air before he apparated home.

"Potter!" Draco called, and Harry looked over his shoulder warily, prepared to get scolded some more. After a moment of hesitation, the blond continued, "I'll be home soon, alright? Right after dinner. So don't get any ideas about taking my bed."

Harry mood did a complete turn-around as he grinned at the reassurance poorly disguised as an insult and nodded. He walked out the doors with a handprint still decorating his cheek, but felt strangely lighthearted. Pansy and Blaise be damned, somewhere in the past few days it felt like he and Draco had turned some huge, important corner. Maybe the future didn't have to seem quite so daunting anymore.

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><p><strong>AN: So I hit 30 reviews this past chapter which was really exciting! Thanks so much for your support everyone. I hope you continue to enjoy this story.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: All I can say is thank you, thank you, thank you. The feedback from the last chapter was amazing, I'm so happy you're all enjoying this story so much! I think this is the chapter a lot of you have been waiting for so here you go! Chapter nine, hope you love it.**

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><p>True to his word, Draco had returned home that night only about an hour after Harry had left. They had both made small talk, tip-toeing expertly around the issues that were so clearly on both of their minds, and went to bed.<p>

The next few days were blissfully uneventful, and both men were grateful for the monotony. It gave them each time that they so desperately needed to organize their thoughts and get their lives in order. Harry had shown Draco the Quidditch pitch, and the blond spent almost every spare minute there, flying from the time he woke up until the time Harry went to get him for dinner, practicing in hopes of being ready to join his team again soon. Things at Harry's job were finally slowing down after he had stepped in and given everyone the direction that they desperately needed, and Seamus' face finally returned to its usual pallor, rather than the perpetual frustrated red it had been stuck at while Harry was away.

Overall, Harry couldn't complain. Draco had finally stopped putting up such a fight, at least for the time being, and their relationship was the best it had been since Draco came home from the hospital. The two ate breakfast together every morning and dinner every night. They chatted about work and Quidditch and news from the Daily Prophet, and managed to settle into a somewhat comfortable routine.

Even with all of the latest improvements in his life, Harry still felt like there was a boulder weighing heavily on his chest at all times. A huge piece of him was missing. He didn't want to wave goodbye to his husband every morning before he left for work, he wanted a proper kiss. He didn't want to tell Draco goodnight and then grab his clothes and make a bed on the couch, he wanted to hold his husband close with Draco's head on his chest, and he wanted to tell him over and over how much Harry loved him. The problem was that while Draco didn't cringe at the sight of him anymore, he doubted they had the same interests in mind. Harry wanted to move their relationship along, but didn't know how to without risking a major setback in all of the progress that they made.

So naturally, he decided to do what he always did when he had a problem he just couldn't figure out on his own. He turned to his best friends. Since Draco was still at the Quidditch pitch, Harry jotted a quick note and left it on the coffee table in the living room explaining where he was before leaving for Ron and Hermione's home.

His friends were much less helpful than he could have ever anticipated. After he explained his situation in detail, Hermione was the first to give him an idea that he couldn't have disliked more.

"Harry, he's still fragile. It would be a very bad idea to try to be anything more than his friend right now," she told him sympathetically.

"Have you forgotten the part where we're already married? How am I supposed to only be his friend when he's already my husband?" Harry asked, exasperated.

"Because in his mind," Hermione reminded him, "he's not really your husband. I know he's being more cooperative than usual, and I don't mean to be cruel, but that's probably just because he knows he won't remember anything if he doesn't go along with it. I doubt he actually feels as though he's married."

Ron perked up and joined in, "And that's why I think Harry's right. It's time for him to make a move! How is Draco supposed to fall in love with you again if you're just the bloke that he eats two meals a day with? You have to do something," he insisted, ignoring Hermione's disapproving glare.

"Like what?" Harry asked, finally liking the direction the conversation was heading in.

The redhead leaned forward and his ears turned a bright shade of pink. "What gets him, you know… Excited?"

Hermione and Harry both balked at him. "Ron!" they shouted simultaneously.

"That's private, I'm sure," Hermione reprimanded her husband.

"It is," Harry agreed. "It's kind of just between me and him."

Ron tried again, undeterred by either of them. "Oh, c'mon, mate. We won't tell a soul. And we promise we won't judge you! This is purely to help us help you."

Hermione stared at her husband for a long moment before shrugging and turning to Harry. "He has a point, I suppose. It couldn't hurt."

Harry turned bright red before staring down at his hands in his lap. "Well… He likes being tickled."

Ron couldn't help letting out a quick snort before slapping his hand over his mouth.

"Being tickled?" Hermione asked skeptically. "That's…"

"So weird, mate," the redhead finished for her.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "What happened to not judging?" he asked, face still beet red.

Ron held his hands up in defense. "Sorry, mate. Just wasn't expecting that. But in all seriousness, though, if that works for you, you should try it."

"You think I should tickle him? Seriously?" Harry asked, unsure of whether or not his best friend was still just messing with him or not.

"Yes, seriously. If it works, then that's awesome. And if it goes horribly wrong, well, what do you have to lose?" Ron shrugged and Hermione grabbed his hand in support.

"He's right, Harry. I still don't think you should push him into anything so fast, but maybe you could trigger a memory or something. You'll never know if you don't try."

An hour later, Harry was thanking his friends for their advice and heading to the Quidditch pitch to get Draco for dinner, torn between being excited to make the next move and dreading his reaction. He immediately looked upwards to find him, but his husband was nowhere to be found. The moment that he turned to look around the field, his heart skipped a beat.

Draco was sitting in the middle of the field, broomstick thrown carelessly several feet away from him, covering his face with his hands.

"Draco?" Harry called cautiously, not wanting to startle him. It didn't seem to work, as the blond jumped to his feet and whipped around before Harry had managed to take two steps onto the field. "Everything alright?" he asked, walking closer to the blond.

"I'm fine," he answered too quickly, eyes shining bright under the lights lining the field.

Harry reached out as if to grab his hand, but after remembering Hermione's warnings about moving too quickly, thought better of it, letting his hand drop uselessly to his side. "Are you sure? You know you can talk to me about anything."

Draco stared at Harry, then down at his dejected broomstick. "I don't remember how to fly," he answered quietly.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused. "I see you flying all the time."

"Yeah, but not like I used to, when I was with the Falcons," Draco all but whined. "I kind of thought that I would just be great automatically, since I'm apparently the best seeker they've had in a decade. Even though I can't remember the last five years, I thought my body might. Muscle memory and all that. But I'm only as good as I was in school, like the past years of training never even happened."

"It'll come in time, Draco," Harry reassured him. "You're recovering from a major injury, and working as hard as humanly possible. You'll get back to it in no time."

Draco groaned and bent over, pushing his palms into his knees and squeezing his eyes shut. "But what if I don't?"

"Come on, Draco, don't think like that," the brunet insisted, hesitating before putting a hand on his back. The man stiffened under his touch but didn't totally freak out or push him away, which Harry took as a good sign. He started rubbing soothing circles between his husband's broad shoulders, feeling the muscles beneath his hands start to slowly relax. Harry bit his lip nervously and decided that now was as good a time as ever to apply Hermione and Ron's advice. He let his hands start trailing down his back, still rubbing small circles.

'_Now or never'_ he told himself, maneuvering his hands to grab the blond's extremely ticklish waist. As soon as his fingers brushed the area, Draco was immediately alert, standing up straight and jumping a foot back in alarm.

"What the hell was that, Potter?" Draco exclaimed, eyes wide.

Harry turned away, embarrassed and frustrated. "Nothing, sorry, I'm sorry, just forget it." He ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm himself. It didn't work.

"Was that..." Draco sighed and crossed his arms, seeming just as frustrated as Harry was, and stepped a bit closer to his husband. "Was that one of our things?"

The brunet waved a hand, still refusing to meet his husband's eyes. "Yeah, sort of. But don't worry about it, it'll all come back to you. We just have to keep on doing what we're doing."

A long silence followed, and Harry was just about to apparate home when he felt a touch on the back of his hand. He turned to face Draco, whose eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he examined Harry closely, from his shaking hands to the muscle twitching in his jaw to his suspiciously red, watery eyes.

"I'm sorry I don't remember," Draco told him with all of the sincerity he could muster up, keeping a few fingers just barely touching the back of Harry's hand.

Harry blinked several times, trying to clear his blurry vision. He just barely resisted the urge to pinch himself to see whether or not he was dreaming. "That's the first time you have ever told me you're sorry. About anything. Ever. And you almost blew up our house once."

Draco scowled and looked away. "Well don't get used to it."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry answered. He hesitated before asking, "Are you coming home for dinner?"

Draco nodded before glancing at his broomstick and then back to Harry. "But first," he walked over to the middle of the field and picked up his broomstick, hopping on and hovering several feet off the ground, flying back to Harry and flying in slow circles around him. "Fly with me."

Harry stared at him and echoed, "Fly with you?"

The blond came to a stop right in front of him. "Yes, Potter. I assume you still have a broomstick? Use it."

Harry watched his husband fly up and zoom down the field. Even though tickling Draco hadn't really triggered anything or done what he intended it to, he still felt as though it worked, somehow.

"Accio broomstick," he mumbled, flicking his wand before putting it back into his pocket. He watched Draco fly around while he waited for it, and less than a minute later his broomstick came flying over the stands and landed directly in his outstretched, waiting hands. It had been a while since he flew but the moment he was up in the air it felt like he had never even left.

He started off slow and easy, enjoying the feeling of the wind in his hair and the fading sun on his back. He looked around, finding his husband watching him expectantly from about ten feet above him. He flew straight up to meet Draco and grinned.

"Now what?" Harry asked.

"Now we race, of course," Draco answered quickly. "First one to finish five laps wins. Ready, set…" before Harry could even figure out what was happening, Draco was speeding away down the field, leaving the brunet staring dumbly after him.

Harry started after him quickly, laughing. "You cheated!" he shouted, catching up to him before they finished their first lap.

"What was that, Potter? Can't hear you over the sound of me kicking your arse!" he yelled back, grinning. The two were neck and neck as they reached a lap and a half, and Harry realized with a start that if he wanted to, he could win. Draco had always been so much faster than him, but today, he was only going about half of his usual speed. With one last push, Harry could win for sure. But the memory of seeing Draco curled up in a ball, worrying about whether he would ever be able to be good enough to re-join his team was enough to make him hang back, letting Draco take the clear lead as they made their next few laps and crossed the finish line.

Draco turned around and frowned, "I won," he stated. He wasn't nearly as out of breath as he usually was after flying.

Harry nodded. "You did. Don't get used to it, though, I'll win for sure next time."

The blond stared at Harry curiously, as if he was trying to solve a tricky Arithmancy problem that he couldn't quite figure out.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked. He thought that winning would give Draco the confidence boost he needed, but the blond just seemed more confused than excited.

Draco shook his head and smirked, just the most subtle upturning of the corner of his mouth. "You really love me, don't you?" he asked Harry, staring straight into the man's bright green eyes.

The question caught Harry off guard, making his eyes widen slightly, but he nodded. "Yeah, I really do."

After a moment of silence, Draco raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to ask me how I know?"

"How do you know?"

"Because you let me win. The old Harry never would have done that for me." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Draco cut him off and continued, "I wasn't even going full speed, and I know you weren't either. So I want a re-match, fair and square. No holding back for either of us, alright?"

Harry grinned and agreed. "Okay, no holding back."

Draco nodded and prepared himself. "Ready… set… go!"

The men shot off like lightning, and this time it was obvious both of them were flying to their best ability. They were neck and neck, and every time one of them would muster up all of their strength and give themselves the extra burst of speed they were sure would help them win, the other caught up within seconds.

They were twenty feet from the finish line and Draco glanced at Harry, who looked determined, but definitely worn out. He grinned and used all of his remaining energy to hurtle himself across the finish line, just seconds before his husband could do the same.

Draco laughed and pumped his fist in the air as they lowered themselves to the ground, landing and tumbling to the ground, exhausted and content. They laid side by side, keeping a respectable amount of distance between them.

"I guess you didn't need to let me win the first time after all. I'm clearly better than you all on my own," Draco grinned.

Harry laughed. "Yeah, well maybe if l had a head injury and got to stay home from work and just fly around all day I'd be as good as you are, too," he teased, nudging Draco with his elbow.

"I'd be more than willing to make that happen, Potter," he joked, pulling out his wand and waving it in the air playfully. Harry laughed and Draco's arms fell to his sides as a comfortable silence fell over them. A few minutes had passed just staring up at the sunset when Draco added thoughtfully, "You used to be better than me in school. I never won a game against you."

"Well, things change," Harry shrugged, turning to meet his husband's gaze.

Draco thought back to his school days, and the Harry that he used to know. The one that had refused his friendship when they were eleven. The one who was so self-absorbed that the only time he ever even made eye contact with Draco was when he was being insulted or hexed. The one who thought that he was so much better than Draco and all of his friends. Looking at the man he was lying next to now, it was almost impossible to see any similarities. Harry was still fiercely loyal and protective as ever, but that seemed far less annoying now that he was on the receiving end. He was patient and had shown Draco nothing but kindness, even when he was being less than gracious. He was unsure of himself at times, and his entire world seemed to revolve around Draco, to the point where he missed work several times just to make sure his husband wasn't feeling lonely or sad. A rush of gratitude filled Draco, a feeling he wasn't quite used to.

"Yeah," Draco answered, "they really do." And then before he even knew what he was doing he was reaching out and brushing the tips of his fingers against the side of Harry's hand. Harry, purely out of reflex, flipped over his hand and grabbed Draco's hand, entwining their fingers together.

Suddenly the atmosphere changed completely as they explored territory that was completely new to Draco. Harry waited for the hand in his grasp to pull away and slap him or something of the sort, but it never happened. Instead, they continued to lay there, hands joining them together beneath the rapidly descending sun, watching each other and listening to the frantic beating of their own hearts.

Harry couldn't help himself as he hoisted himself up onto his side, propping himself up with his elbow. He regretfully pulled his hand out of Draco's grasp, and instead placed it on the side of the blond's face.

Draco knew what was coming as Harry dragged the back of his knuckles down the side of his cheek, then traced the line of his jaw back up to his ear before his hand tangled itself in his messy blond hair. His heart was racing as Harry lowered himself slowly, waiting to see if Draco would object. He paused when his lips were about an inch from Draco's own, giving him one last chance to do something to stop him. Even if Draco had wanted to say something, he wouldn't have been able to, considering how dry his mouth and throat had suddenly become.

And then a moment later, Harry closed the gap between them. As his eyes slid shut, Draco realized with a startling clarity the he was kissing his husband, the savior of the entire wizarding world, Harry Potter. And that he wasn't entirely opposed to the idea. Draco dropped his wand, which he just realized he was still holding, and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, his other hand coming up to rest on the back of the brunet's neck, drawing him even closer.

Harry's kiss was sweet and gentle, as if he was still a little afraid of Draco pushing him away. But the pressure of Harry's lips on his own and the scent of his husband was giving Draco a sense of déjà vu. It wasn't exactly drawing up any memories, but it was familiar and comfortable, as though he had done this hundreds of times before. Which, he supposed, he had.

After an indiscernible amount of time, Harry drew back. Draco felt like he was in a dream. Like he would open his eyes and Harry would be gone and he would realize he just imagined everything that had just happened. But when his eyes fluttered open, Harry was still hovering close above him, blinking rapidly, his entire face contorted as if he was in pain.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

Harry blinked again and shook his head, swallowing hard before answering, "I don't think you understand how much I've missed you. Or how much I love you."

Draco took in the pain in Harry's eyes, flashing back once again to how he looked on their wedding day. He felt Harry's pulse racing beneath his thumb and listened to his labored breathing and felt his own breath hitch.

"I think I do," he answered quietly.

Harry didn't hesitate before closing the space between them once again, finally feeling whole for the first time in a month.


	10. Chapter 10

When Draco woke the next morning, he was warm and comfortable and utterly happy. He yawned and nuzzled in closer to the source of his comfort, his brain unwilling to wake up and function properly. His nose scrunched when it met with the scratchy stubble covering Harry's jaw.

His eyes were open and alert faster than ever before. He had spent the entire night cuddling up to Harry Potter. And suddenly it all came rushing back to him: the Quidditch pitch, the tickling, the racing, the kissing. Oh, Merlin, they had kissed. What had he been thinking? The blond's head was nestled in the crook of Harry's neck, and he could hear clearly the brunet's steady breathing. Draco was thankful he had yet to wake up, so that he could have this massive panic attack in private.

He disentangled his legs from Harry's, and the fact that all either man had been wearing was a thin pair of pajama bottoms made his face flush so brightly and his heart race so fast that he thought he might actually hurl. Quickly and quietly, he left the room and headed towards the kitchen, leaving a sleeping, unsuspecting Harry alone in his bed, curled around a pillow.

When Harry woke some time later, he remembered immediately what had happened. His arm shot out to reach for his husband, but found the bed cold and empty, much to his disappointment. His eyes were still heavy from a lack of sleep, and it was still fairly early, but curiosity got the best of him, as usual. The brunet rolled out of bed and steadied himself on the wall across from him as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and yawned. He wandered lazily out of his bedroom, perking up when he was immediately greeted by the smell of a new pot of coffee brewing.

"I thought you would sleep forever."

Harry found Draco sitting at the head of the table, fully dressed, sipping a cup of coffee. He smiled and walked over, leaning down to kiss the man, but instead ended up kissing he cheek. Draco cleared his throat awkwardly, but Harry was in far too good of a mood to let that deter him too much.

"Morning, love," Harry chirped, walking over to the coffee maker to pour himself a mug.

"Good morning," Draco answered automatically. "Harry, there's something I need to talk to you about."

The brunet tried his hardest to not totally freak out and show that his nerves were getting the best of him. Could Draco be regretting last night already? Did he think it was a mistake? Instead of asking those questions that were buzzing around his mind like a swarm of bees whose hive had been shaken, he just leaned against the counter and stirred his coffee.

"What about?" he asked as casually as humanly possible.

"Well, about Pansy," Draco answered. "And Blaise."

Harry looked up in surprise, slightly thrown off. "Okay… Why do you need to talk about them?"

"Because," Draco started, staring steadfastly into his coffee cup. "They've asked me to come stay with them for the next week." The silence that followed alerted the blond to the fact that Harry was on the verge of having a meltdown, so he stood up and raised his hands in defense. "Their wedding is next Saturday, and they are really stressing out about it. They said they could use the extra help around the house."

"I don't want you to go," Harry told him firmly, placing his coffee down on the counter behind him.

Draco crossed his arms. "Well I wasn't exactly asking your permission, Potter."

Harry stared at him hard and grit his teeth. "You've already told them you're going, haven't you?"

The blond hesitated before raising his chin a bit higher and nodding. "Yes, I have."

"Is this about last night?" Harry asked harshly, "Because it's not like I forced you to do anything you didn't want to do."

"No," Draco snapped defensively, raising his voice. "It's not about last night. Contrary to popular belief, Potter, not everything is about you!"

Harry saw red before taking a deep breath and running his hands over his face. It didn't have the calming effect he was going for however, and so he went for the next logical step: slamming his fist down so hard on the kitchen table that Draco's coffee cup shook.

"We are married!" He shouted, truly furious at his husband for the first time in a very long time. He took a small amount of pleasure in the way Draco's eyes widened a fraction in surprise before returning to their usual narrow glare. "We don't speak to each other like this! And we certainly don't lie to each other."

"And how would you know if I'm lying or not?" Draco challenged.

"We've been together for years, Draco, I know when you're lying," Harry rolled his eyes, frustrated. "I know this is about last night. This is you, running away from your problems like you used to when you were young."

"Shut up!" Draco screamed, wand out in the blink of an eye, pointed right up to Harry's chest. He was breathing heavily from sheer rage, and for one scary moment, Harry thought that he might actually hurt him. But a short moment later, the hand holding the wand began to tremble, and Harry's fear faded quickly into crushing disappointment.

"What are you going to do, Draco?" Harry asked sadly. "Curse me? Kill me?"

The blond swallowed hard and shook his head, putting away his wand quickly. He looked away, eyes filled with something like regret or shame. "I won't be gone long," he said quietly. "A week, two tops, and then I'll come back."

Harry took a step back and shook his head. "When are you going to stop lying to me? And to yourself? You know as well as I do that if you leave right now, you won't be back."

"You're wrong," the blond insisted, still staring at the wallpaper as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

The brunet deflated like a balloon, releasing all his anger, as well as his hope, leaving him feeling empty and numb. "You know, this is hard for me too, Draco. Probably just as hard as it is for you. But I never stopped believing that if we worked together, and if I fought for you, things would just work out in the end. What I never considered was how quickly you would give up."

"This isn't me giving up," Draco sighed, exasperated. He finally turned back to Harry. "This is just me taking a step back. I can't be your husband right now when I don't even know who I am on my own. This is the only way I can think of to get my life back together. Without you in the picture."

"If this is honestly what you think you need to do, then there's nothing I can do about it," Harry relented.

"Right after the wedding," he repeated. "I'll come home. And we'll figure everything out."

"Okay," Harry agreed, though he was having a hard time believing him, despite his persistence. "Just be careful."

Draco rolled his eyes childishly. "I'm staying with my friends not joining a cult."

"Can I…" Harry hesitated, crossing his arms. "Can I at least give you an awkward hug goodbye?"

The blond laughed and walked towards him, throwing his arms around Harry and holding tight. He felt his husband's breath on his neck and his strong arms wrap around his waist. He pulled back and smirked. "Bye, Harry."

"Yeah," Harry answered, letting Draco go reluctantly. He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but shook his head and instead said, "Bye."

Draco ducked into the bedroom, and by the time he re-emerged with his suitcase, Harry was nowhere in sight. He walked through the silent house alone, grabbing Floo powder and leaving for his destination before he let his mind linger too much on where Harry had gone, and for what reason.

Ron was as helpful as always when Harry arrived at his house, eyes red and swollen, and threw himself on the living room couch dramatically.

"I'll kill him," Ron growled, pacing over to his distraught best friend. He stopped in front of the couch and scratched the back of his neck. "But, uh, just so I can defend myself in my trial… What exactly did he do?"

A pop resounded beside him before Harry could answer and Hermione arrived home, carrying several bags of groceries. Ron rushed forward to grab the bags from his now six months pregnant wife. She kissed him on the cheek gratefully before pushing Harry's feet off the couch and sitting in the newly vacated seat.

"What did who do?" she asked Harry as he sat up and leaned heavily against the arm of the couch.

"Draco left," he told them, keeping his eyes focused on the ground.

"What?" his friends yelled simultaneously, Ron from all the way in the kitchen. He ran back quickly after that and added as he dropped into his usual chair, "What do you mean he left?"

"I mean he's gone," Harry answered, more harshly than he had intended. "He went to stay with Parkinson and Zabini until after the wedding next weekend."

"Did something happen between you two?" Hermione asked kindly, clearly feeling sympathetic.

"Well, I took your advice," he told them, and they exchanged nervous glances. "But that actually worked. Really, really well."

Ron grinned. "What did I tell you, mate? I knew it would work."

Hermione looked less optimistic. "So if it worked, then why did he leave?" Ron frowned, as if just remembering the initial problem.

"He says he needs time to figure out who he is on his own," Harry explained. "I think he just started freaking out because he woke up next to me this morning."

"What ever happened to not taking things too fast?" Hermione scolded. "He's in an extremely fragile state right now, Harry."

"I know, I know, I messed up," Harry admitted before Hermione could say anything else. "But I don't regret it. He's my husband and last night was the first time I've been close to him, in any sense of the word, in over a month. And he says he's coming home after the wedding, but after such a long time apart, I doubt he actually will."

"You're definitely right about that," Hermione told him thoughtfully. "Knowing Draco the way he is now, he'll probably find some excuses to stay with Pansy and Blaise even after the wedding."

"So how can you make sure that doesn't happen?" Ron asked, furrowing his brow in concentration.

Harry was quiet for a minute and then shook his head. "I don't know. He says he doesn't feel like he can be my husband right now. What could I possibly do to change that?"

"That's it!" Hermione exclaimed, eyes lighting up in a way that reminded Harry of how she used to look when she knew the correct answer to a question their professor was asking. "It's so obvious to me now. Of course he can't be can't be your husband!"

The brunet man narrowed his eyes at her. "What are you suggesting? That I divorce him?"

Hermione shook her head frantically. "No, no, don't be ridiculous, Harry. But just think of it this way: how would you feel if you woke up tomorrow and realized you were married to... to Blaise Zabini?" Harry's entire face distorted in disgust and Hermione laughed and continued, "Exactly. That must have been how Draco felt that very first day in the hospital. Then he got used to you, but not as his husband, since you were keeping your distance."

"I thought that's what you said I was supposed to do," Harry reminded her, unsure of what she was trying to tell him.

"You were! If you had made a move too early, you would have made him uncomfortable, and probably angry. He would have left a long time ago. But since you didn't, he wasn't thinking of your relationship as a marriage, probably more like a roommate or a friend, you see?"

Harry eyed her skeptically and answered, "Uh, yeah, I suppose so."

"So what's the first step from friend to something more?" Hermione asked, eyes bright and excited. The men stared at her in complete silence, glancing at each other and shrugging.

"A kiss?" Harry guessed. "But we've already done that. It's kind of what caused this whole mess in the first place."

"No, before that!" Hermione persisted.

Ron groaned. "I'm getting really tired of this whole twenty questions business. Just go on and tell us what he has to do already."

Hermione turned to glare at her husband before grinning at Harry. "You have to ask him on a date."

"A date?" Harry and Ron echoed simultaneously.

"Yes, a date. Where you take him out to a nice restaurant, pay for his meal, hold his hand and all of that? Ever heard of it?" The girl joked with both men. She sighed at their blank stares. "Look, how is he ever going to be ready to be your husband if you don't show him that side of you? Last night must have been strange for him, and probably alarming. I'm not surprised he ran off like he did today. But if you take him out on a proper date, maybe he'll be able to picture himself with you in that way. Get him readjusted to life with you as his husband, instead of just his roommate."

Harry blinked at her owlishly for so long that she was actually becoming uncomfortable. "That's absolutely brilliant!" He told her finally. "I don't know why I didn't think of that myself."

"Because you're not a genius like my wife," Ron stated, staring at Hermione proudly. She turned a bit pink and smiled, enjoying the praise.

"I'll go over to Pansy's and ask him on a date. All I have to do is pray that he says yes," Harry mumbled, mostly to himself. He was excited about the idea, but equally as nervous. What if Draco said no? Not only would that be devastating, but that might actually set them back even further, if that was even possible.

He stood up and sighed. "Okay, well, here I go. For some reason I never thought I would have to ask out my husband on a first date ever again."

"Wait, you can't go yet, mate," Ron insisted. "You got here barely a half hour ago. You've got to let him miss you a little, or he'll think you're not giving him his space."

"But if you wait too long, he might have already made up his mind that he has to be alone for now," Hermione warned.

Harry glanced between the two. "So… tomorrow, then?" he asked.

Hermione thought for a moment before nodding. "Yes, tomorrow. The day after tomorrow at the latest."

"Alright, then." Harry bit the inside of his cheek nervously and checked the time. It was almost ten. "I'd better get to work. Thank you guys for your advice. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Hermione rushed forward to hug him. "Of course, Harry."

Ron stepped forward to pat his shoulder and then wrap an arm around his wife. "Let us know how it goes. And tell Dean I'll be in at twelve."

And with that, Harry left, knowing fully well that he would get very little work done while he was so distracted figuring out how he was going to ask his husband out on a proper date for the first time.

Or, well, for the second time.

Draco glanced around the guest bedroom, feeling slightly out of place despite the familiarity of it all. It felt much more like the Malfoy Manor than Potter's house had, all expensive white carpets and polished wooden surfaces, but over the past month or so he had grown quite used to the cozy apartment he shared with Harry. They were both comfortable to him in different ways, so he couldn't quite point his finger to which style he preferred.

He was already all unpacked, so he sat down on his bed, sinking into the plush beige comforter. He was just looking around at the scarce decorations when he heard a knock at the door. He stood and brushed the wrinkles out of his clothes before walking over and opening the door.

Blaise stood there smiling at him, tall and handsome as ever. "All settled in?" he asked.

"Yeah, I am," Draco answered, stepping back to allow Blaise to enter. "I just finished unpacking."

"That's great," Blaise said, somewhat distractedly. He walked over and sat on his bed, gesturing for Draco to sit next to him.

"You know," he said as Draco walked back to the bed. "Me and Pansy were excited when you asked to stay with us, of course, but I'm just curious. Did something happen with Potter? Did he hurt you?"

Draco flushed as images from the night before came flooding back to him, memories that he had been skillfully avoiding facing all day. "No, he hasn't done anything wrong."

"So why did you need to get out of the house so badly? You sounded pretty desperate this morning, no offense." Blaise raised his hands in defense and smirked.

The blond shook his head. "None taken. Not my proudest moment. But I assure you, he hasn't harmed me or anything of the sort. In fact, I was the one who almost hurt him." He thought back with a grimace to that morning, when he pulled his wand on Harry like some sort of… angry teenager. It was exactly something he would have done when he and Harry were both sixteen, but things were so very different now, and he knew it had been uncalled for. Blaise raised an eyebrow and seemed slightly judgmental, but didn't comment so Draco sighed and continued, "I'm just confused. I need some time without him to get myself back to who I was."

"And how do you think you're going to figure out who you were without his help?" Blaise asked.

"Oh, so now you're rooting for Potter?" Draco asked defensively. "I got by without him when I was younger, I can do it again now."

"I'm not saying that you aren't independent, Draco," Blaise backtracked, "I'm just saying that he knows you better than anyone else. If anyone could help you figure out who you were, it would be him."

Draco furrowed his brow in confusion. "So you don't think I should have come?" he asked, wondering if he could have made a mistake by leaving home.

"That's not exactly what I'm saying either."

"Well make up your mind Zabini, you're giving me a headache."

Blaise laughed and elbowed Draco playfully. "Look, all I know is that you married that man for a reason. Pansy and I didn't like it at the time, and we still don't completely understand it, but you and Harry Potter are meant to be together. So just let the pieces fall where they may, everything will work out in the end."

Draco huffed and fell back onto the back. "How do you know?"

Blaise had to turn to look at Draco as he asked, "Have I ever steered you wrong before?" Draco lifted his head to stare doubtfully at Blaise. "Nevermind, don't answer that," the latter man decided. They laughed and Blaise stood up and kicked Draco's feet. "Just trust me. Now get up and make yourself useful. There's a lot of preparation that needs to be done for next weekend."

The blond groaned as he lifted himself out of bed. "You know, when I said that I was going to be helping you guys get ready for the wedding, it was mostly just an excuse. You don't actually have to put me to work, Zabini."

"Oh, yes, I do." Blaise grinned and grabbed Draco by the wrist, dragging him out of the bedroom to do Merlin knew how many menial tasks.

After half an hour of listening to Pansy debate with herself over which kind of wood she wanted the chairs to be made of, Draco began to seriously doubt whether he had made the right decision about leaving.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** **Hello! As always, thank you so much for the support. This story hit 60 reviews, 80 followers, and 50 favorites this last chapter, which is absolutely amazing. Love love love you all! This chapter is a bit of a filler, but the new chapter should be up within two or three days. Hope you enjoy it, and please leave some feedback! I really enjoy hearing from you guys. **

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><p>The next day was as sluggish and unproductive as Harry had anticipated. Work had been slower than usual, giving him nothing but time to agonize over what to say when he saw Draco. Now that he was standing here in Pansy's foyer, however, he realized he was still horribly unprepared. His heart was racing and his mind was completely empty of all the ideas he had come up with yesterday.<p>

And suddenly, Pansy was there, making his nerves ten times worse with her threatening glare.

"What do you want, Potter?" she growled.

Harry held his hands up in defense. "Relax, I'm not here to steal Draco from you guys. I just want to talk to him for a minute."

The brunet woman crossed her arms. "Well he's busy helping Blaise with wedding details at the moment."

"I need to talk to him, Pansy," Harry insisted. "Just for one minute. And then he's all yours, okay?"

Pansy glared at him for a moment longer and huffed. "They're in the kitchen. Follow me."

"Thank you." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. First step, actually getting into the house, done. He followed the girl down a long hallway, her heels clicking on the marble floor incessantly. She stopped in front of large white double doors and pushed them open, walking in without bothering to see whether or not the doors would slam in Harry's face. No doubt that's the result she was looking for.

"Potter!" Blaise exclaimed, and Draco looked up from the catalogue of food options he had been browsing through. "Nice to see you again." He stood from his seat and walked over to Harry, hand extended.

Harry eyed the hand uncomfortably before relenting and shaking it firmly with his own. "Zabini, same to you."

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked, standing and crossing his arms.

Harry turned his full attention to his husband, whose hair was gelled lightly and combed neatly to the side, and who was wearing a button down collared black shirt paired with black slacks. He looked just like himself from sixth year, only more mature.

The brunet was a bit thrown by Draco's appearance, but cleared his throat and asked, "Can we talk for a minute? It's important."

Draco glanced between him and Blaise and shook his head. "Sorry, Potter, I would. But I'm a bit busy being used as a house elf by my best friends." He narrowed his eyes slightly at Blaise, who had him picking out food from a catalogue for the past two hours, but denying every item that he chose.

"No, no, it's fine by me if you take a break. We actually picked our menu about a month ago, we just wanted you to feel useful," Blaise grinned evilly.

The blond stared, slack jawed, at his friend before turning back to Harry. "Yes, let's talk. Get me away from these people."

Harry chuckled and held the kitchen door open, gesturing for him to leave. Draco walked out and he followed, ignoring the holes Pansy was burning in the back of his skull with her glare.

The two men walked outside and stood in an awkward silence for a moment before Harry could decide how to start. Finally, he said, "So it looks like you're having fun here."

"Fun isn't exactly the word I would use," Draco rolled his eyes.

'_Then why don't you come home_?' Harry thought, only just barely biting his tongue in time to stop him from voicing it. The number one rule he had set for himself today was that no matter what, he could not pressure Draco into coming back home with him. In no scenario that he had imagined had that gone well.

After another silent minute, Draco asked, "So you wanted to talk about something, right?"

"Right," Harry repeated, steeling himself for whatever was about to happen. He thought for a second before asking, "What's your favorite book?"

"You came here to ask me what my favorite book is, Potter?" Draco asked skeptically.

Harry crossed his arms impatiently. "Just answer the question."

Draco shrugged. "I've never really thought about it. I guess Quidditch Through the Ages."

"Really? That's your all-time favorite book?" Harry asked a bit mockingly, but waved his hands frantically before Draco could answer. "No, that's not important. So have you ever lent out that book, and wished that you could experience reading it for the first time all over again, like the person who just borrowed it was going to?"

"I guess so…" Draco hedged. "Where are you going with this?"

Harry answered quickly, "I'm getting there. Listen, I think that's how we should look at this situation. I tried to skip straight to being in love again, but that's not what's going to help you get back to where you need to be. We need to experience _falling_ in love all over again, as if it were for the first time."

The blond nodded thoughtfully. "Like reading your favorite book for the first time."

Harry smiled, relieved that he had actually been able to get his point across, despite his nervous rambling. "Exactly. So I came here today," Harry took a deep breath to calm himself before finishing, "to ask you out on a date."

"A date?" Draco blinked rapidly, feeling his heart skip a beat nervously.

"Yes, a date. And you can't ask what we're going to do because it's going to be a surprise."

"I don't know," Draco sighed. "With the wedding coming up and everything…"

"But here's the thing," Harry smiled, "If you go out with me before that, I just might let you bring me to that wedding as your date."

Harry's smile became more and more forced as the seconds ticked by without an answer. Finally, his heart sank and he was just about to go on a rant about how it was okay if he said no because he knew how confusing this must be for him when Draco answered just in time.

"Okay," he laughed. "I guess it couldn't be any worse than being here and helping pick out napkin patterns for hours. Or trying to find a different date to the wedding."

Harry grinned brilliantly and laughed to release his nerves. "I feel like there's a chance that I should be offended that you're only going out with me to avoid napkin duty, but I'll take it. Can I pick you up at five tomorrow?"

Draco nodded before his face fell. "Oh, actually, I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow at four. I'm not sure if I'll be back in time to get ready."

"Doctor's appointment?" Harry was instantly alarmed. "What for? Are you alright?"

Draco bit his cheek to keep from laughing at Harry's worry. "I'm fine," he reassured the man. "It's just a check-up. The doctor wants to make sure I'm healing properly and ready to apparate on my own. I can't wait to not have to take the Floo passages everywhere I go."

"Do you…" Harry hesitated. "Do you want me to come with you?"

The blond shook his head. "Pansy's coming so I'll be fine. Don't worry about it."

"Oh," Harry said brilliantly, trying to hide his disappointment. He wanted to press the issue further, but knew that he had already won a major victory by getting Draco to agree to a date, he didn't want to push his luck.

Draco knew that Harry was slightly upset and crossed his arms before asking, "So does six work for tomorrow?"

Harry perked up immediately. "Yes, six sound perfect," he grinned.

Draco smirked in return. "Alright, so I'll see you then I suppose."

"See you then," Harry returned, unable to keep the smile off of his face, even as Draco went inside and shut the door behind him.

And as he walked away, preparing to return home, he was still smiling like a fool, excited beyond belief for his first date with his husband.

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><p>Draco was beyond grateful to Pansy for coming with him to the hospital. The fluorescent white walls were giving him a headache, and the distinct antiseptic smell in the air was bringing back unpleasant memories of his first visit here. As they passed the ER on their way to the clinic, he peered inside, and though he couldn't see the bed that he had been in, he remembered clearly the way it felt to wake up inside the room, confused and alone. Having no idea that he was twenty-one, no idea if he was married, no idea if all of this was one big joke. An unpleasant shiver went through him and suddenly he sort of wished Harry had come as well.<p>

Luckily, once he had signed in, he was able to go into the examination room right away. His Healer was the same one who was with him when he woke up. Mackenzie, he remembered her name was.

"Good afternoon, Draco, you're looking well," she greeted, smiling. She sat in the chair opposite of his and scribbled something down on her clipboard. "How are you feeling today?" she asked.

"I'm feeling well," he told her politely.

She nodded and grabbed something from off the desk, what appeared to be a pen. She clicked it and a light came on at the end. "May I?" she asked, lifting the flashlight a bit higher. Draco nodded and she stepped towards him, shining the light in his eyes. "You haven't been having any dizziness, nausea, or disorientation?"

"Dizziness and nausea, no," he answered as she put down the flashlight and returned to her seat to write more down on her clipboard.

"But you have been having disorientation?" the Healer asked, glancing up worriedly.

Draco smirked. "Considering the circumstances, I would say a bit of disorientation is normal, wouldn't you?"

Healer Mackenzie smiled and nodded. "Yes, I suppose you're right about that. It's good to see you finding humor in the situation. That's always a good sign, it means you're coping well." Draco shrugged and she continued a bit more warily, "Have you had any memory recollection yet?"

Draco thought back to Harry's proposal and the wedding vows and shook his head. "No, none so far."

The Healer hummed and wrote on her clipboard.

"Is that normal?" Pansy asked worriedly.

"As far as the brain goes," the Healer started and looked up from her writing, "I can promise you that nothing is normal. No two brains or injuries are the same so we really don't have much basis for comparison. The continued memory loss isn't something to be alarmed about, but I had hoped, for Draco's sake, that he would remember."

Pansy beamed at Draco, "Well, to me he seems like he's back to his old self again. Perfectly normal." Draco smiled back at her hesitantly. He certainly didn't feel like he was back to normal.

Healer Mackenzie glanced between the two and frowned. "Ms. Parkinson, would you mind stepping out of the room for a moment? I would like to talk to Mr. Potter here alone for a minute."

Draco furrowed his brow when he heard the name and looked around for Harry for a minute before realizing with a start that the Healer was talking about him. He was Mr. Potter.

"It's Malfoy," Pansy snapped, standing up. "And I don't think I should have to leave unless he wants me to."

"Pansy…" Draco wavered, not wanting to upset his best friend. "Really, it's okay. Potter is my legal last name now. I can't get mad when people call me by it. And I think I can handle talking to the woman alone. You're not my babysitter; you don't have to be in here."

The brunet girl's eyes widened a fraction, as if she was expecting Draco to back her up, and crossed her arms. A long moment later she nodded stiffly. "Fine," she said harshly before walking out of the room with long, angry strides.

Healer Mackenzie winced as the door slammed shut behind her, but immediately smiled brightly at Draco. "So, Draco, I just have one question that I'm really dying to ask you. Do you want to remember? I know you feel like you should remember everything, but without taking anyone else's opinions into account, would you prefer not to regain your memory?"

Draco thought about that for a moment. He hadn't really considered it himself, but it did seem easier if he didn't have to remember. If he had left the hospital that day on his own, or had refused to watch the memories Harry had shown him, he could have just walked away and started a new life on his own. He wouldn't have had to feel any of the pressure or expectations that were currently weighing him down. But he hadn't done that. He had left with Potter, he had seen the life that used to be his, and could be once more. At the point he was at now, there was no going back.

"No, I want to remember," he answered, sounding less confident than he intended.

The Healer sat back in her chair, placing her clipboard to the side. "You know, a lot of patients worry that when their memory comes back, so will the memory of the trauma. But that's rarely the case."

"That's not it," Draco shook his head. "I'm not afraid of the accident."

Healer Mackenzie leaned towards him, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. "So what is it that you're afraid of, Draco?"

She looked much more relaxed than Draco thought she would, which was helping to put his anxiety about this conversation at ease. But she was asking him to voice things that he had never fully admitted to himself, and he wasn't sure he was prepared to do that. He crossed his arms and looked away, shrugging, unable to bring himself to answer.

"Anything that you tell me stays just between us. I'm bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. So you can talk to me if you want," the Healer pressed gently.

Draco eyed her skeptically and shrugged. He supposed it would help to at least tell her. "I just," he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What if I don't like my new life?" He finally exploded. "I'm married to Harry Potter for Merlin's sake. What if I remember everything, but still don't love him?"

The Healer raised her eyebrows. "Do you think that's going to happen?"

Draco looked away and shrugged again. "Maybe. Or what if I like it too much?" he asked quietly, almost to himself.

Mackenzie smiled and reached out a hand to grab Draco's arm in support. He stiffened, but didn't push her away as she told him, "It's okay to enjoy yourself, Draco. Even if it's completely different than you had ever thought you would wind up. And I only did one psych rotation so this might be horrible advice, but I think you need to try to fill in the gaps. I'm just afraid that if you don't at least open yourself up to the future, then you're going to live in fear of the past."

The blond stared at her for a moment longer before clearing his throat and crossing her arms. "So are we done here?"

The Healer leaned back again and frowned a bit. "Well, physically you seem fine, so yes, you're free to go."

Draco nodded tersely and stood, heading for the door.

"Mr. Potter," the Healer called out, when Draco's hand was on the door knob. He turned and she took a deep breath before continuing, "I know I'm just your doctor, and I don't mean to overstep my boundaries, so stop me if I do. But just think about this. Five years ago, everyone was living in fear, and your family was not an exception. If things had gone differently, you could have very well ended up in Azkaban with your parents, or worse. But you didn't. You're married to Harry Potter, safe and happy… All I'm saying is that you didn't exactly draw the short stick, you know? You're a very lucky man, and it would be a shame if you couldn't see that anymore."

Draco had gone completely still during her speech and his face was paler than usual, and for a moment she thought he was going to hex her into next week, but all he did was nod again before swinging open the door.

"I know," he answered before leaving and letting the door fall shut behind him.

He knew he got lucky. He knew it could have been worse. He knew that marrying Harry wasn't the worst fate in the world. He knew, he knew, he knew. But that didn't mean he _felt_ lucky. In fact, he quite felt like he had been smashed in the side of the skull with a bludger and dropped into somebody else's life.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry looked himself over in the mirror for the fiftieth time that hour. His hair was the neatest it had been since his wedding, he was wearing slacks that Draco had always approved of, and a light blue button up collared shirt covered by an unbuttoned sports coat. He nodded at his reflection and let out a deep breath he had been holding. This was the best it was going to get.

Twenty minutes later, he was standing in front of Pansy's door, waiting anxiously for Draco to answer the door. He gripped the flowers that he had brought tight in his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists nervously.

When Draco answered, all of the breath left his lungs in one big whoosh. His husband always looked good, of course, but he was absolutely stunning tonight. His black pants were formfitting and his white v-neck shirt was tucked in. Draco's platinum blond hair was left hanging loosely, but gelled slightly to keep it in order. He reached up and pushed it behind his ear, muscles beneath his grey tweed jacket accentuated in all the right ways.

"You look amazing," Harry breathed.

"You brushed your hair," Draco returned. The brunet laughed, figuring that was possibly one of the highest compliments his husband could have paid him.

Harry held out the flowers he had brought, white roses. "These are for you."

Draco blinked owlishly as he took the flowers. "Thanks," he said absently. "I'll go put these in water." Flowers? A suit? He never would have figured Potter to be the type to go all out on dates like this. He checked that there was nobody in the kitchen before closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of the flowers deeply. He loved white roses, they had always reminded him of his mother. For some reason, he got the feeling that Harry already knew that. He found an empty vase in the cabinet and filled it with water before placing them into the vase and setting them on the kitchen table. He admired the way the looked there, elegant and beautiful, before heading back outside.

"Ready to go?" Harry asked, holding out an arm. Draco took hold of it reflexively before he realized that he had no idea where they were going.

"Yeah, I suppose I am," he answered warily.

"I kind of have the whole night planned out, if that's okay with you," Harry smiled.

"And I don't suppose you're going to tell me what we're doing, are you?" Draco was slightly nervous, and it didn't help that Harry was being so secretive about it all.

Harry shook his head. "Nope. You'll see soon enough."

Draco huffed. "Fine. I just have to be back by ten tomorrow morning, Pansy's making me go watch her try on dresses."

The brunet's eyebrows shot up, and he did a double-take at his husband.

"What?" Draco asked. "Think it's funny that I'm basically her slave?"

"No, I just wasn't expecting you to invite yourself to stay the night on our first date. I'm a bit scandalized, that's all," Harry pressed his hand to his chest melodramatically. "I mean, if you wanted to you could, of course," Harry added seriously. "I wasn't saying that you couldn't. I was just saying, ah-"

Draco grinned and grabbed his arm tighter. "Shut it, Potter. Let's just get this over with."

Harry nodded and smiled. He would eternally be grateful for Draco's ability to get him out of his own head. He closed his eyes and apparated them to their first destination.

"Madam Puttifoot's? Draco asked in surprise. "We're in Hogsmeade?"

"Yep," Harry answered cheerfully. "This is where I took you on our first official date, four years ago." Draco raised an eyebrow at him and he chuckled. "We were seventeen, we couldn't even apparate yet. Where was I supposed to take you?"

Draco looked back up at the small café. "Merlin, this place hasn't changed at all."

"I thought you might like that."

The blond looked at Harry and realized just how well the man knew him, almost like he was inside of his head. Harry just understood him. "I do," he said, and Harry smiled brilliantly at him.

"Well, after you then," Harry said, holding the door open.

Draco couldn't lie and say he wasn't a little bit swept up by it all. After all, he had never really been on a date before. And he certainly hadn't been pursued like this. It was kind of refreshing, and definitely flattering.

The two walked inside and were immediately greeted by the hostess. "Mr. Potter!" she exclaimed, rushing forward to shake his hand. "We've been expecting you. We reserved the table you asked for, of course." Draco glanced at Harry, in surprise. He had even made a reservation for a specific table? This was more than he had been expecting out of their first date. The hostess looked at Draco as if just noticing he was there for the first time and beamed at him as well, diminishing his annoyance at being looked over at first. "Mr. Potter," she said politely, reaching out the shake his hand as well. "It's a real pleasure having you two here tonight."

"Come this way," the hostess said, leading them over to a more secluded area, to a corner booth with a large window beside it, giving them the perfect view of the sun setting over Hogsmeade. They thanked her as she handed them their menus and left them in peace.

"So I'm guessing this is where we sat on our first date, too?" Draco asked.

Harry smiled and nodded. "Yes, it is. And where we've sat every time we've come here since then."

Draco smirked. "I figured a life with you would be a bit more exciting than that," he challenged.

The brunet rose to the challenge and chuckled. "It gets better, don't worry about too much about being bored."

Draco opened the menu and had barely read through the first option when Harry grabbed it from his hands. "I told you I had it all planned out didn't I?"

The blond had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes. "Really, Potter? I can't even choose my own meal?"

"Nope," Harry responded casually. Draco was vaguely surprised that Potter was actually standing up to him, rather than just giving him whatever he asked for. He was about to comment on that when a pretty blonde girl walked over to their table, huge smile already plastered on her face.

"Hannah!" Harry greeted her warmly, even standing to give her a hug. The girl seemed vaguely familiar to Draco.

She turned to him and grinned, holding out a hand for him to shake. "Draco! I don't know if you remember me," she exchanged a quick glance with Harry, making him suspect that he had already filled Hannah in on their situation. "But I'm Hannah Abbot," she continued, "I was a Hufflepuff when we were in school."

The moment she said that, Draco remembered her immediately. They had never spoken, since houses were so divided back then, but he had quite a few classes with her. "I remember you," he answered honestly as he shook her hand. "It's good to see you."

"I feel like I haven't seen you guys in so long!" She gushed. "Let me go and get you the usual, okay?"

Harry smiled and nodded, sliding back into the booth. "That would be great, thanks, Hannah."

Hannah smiled prettily at them both in turn, grabbed their menus, and then headed back into the kitchen, practically skipping she seemed so happy.

Draco raised an eyebrow, but before he was able to comment on the 'usual' meal they were about to get, Harry asked, "So how did your doctor's appointment go?"

"Well," Draco answered, flushing a bit when he thought of his Healer's advice. "She said that I'm physically fine."

"That's fantastic," Harry enthused, smiling at Draco before being distracted by Hannah dropping off two glasses of red wine with a smile. "Perfect timing. Let's make a toast."

"To what?" Draco asked.

Harry shrugged. "To anything we want. To your health." He raised his glass.

"To being old enough to drink wine in public," Draco responded, earning a loud laugh from his husband.

"To you ever agreeing to go on a date with me."

"To you brushing your hair for the occasion."

Both men dissolved into laughter, trying to keep it quiet enough to not disturb the other guests. They stifled their chuckles with their hands and, after composing themselves, took long sips of their wine.

The atmosphere was just beginning to turn awkward when Hannah returned with their meals. "Here you go, boys. Pancakes for you, Harry, and waffles for Draco." She smiled and darted away, rushing to greet a couple who had just walked in.

Draco stared down at his meal. "Wait. The usual for us is waffles and red wine?"

"Well, I get pancakes," Harry told him, cutting into his breakfast food and taking his first bite. "But, yeah," he added after swallowing. "That's your usual." After seeing the smirk on Draco's face he chuckled. "I told you that you wouldn't be bored."

"Yes, you did," Draco agreed before digging into his own meal.

Dining together felt comfortable and familiar, as they had been doing it every night for the past month or so. They quickly got over the awkwardness and settled into their usual safe conversation topics, like Harry's work, or Pansy and Blaise's upcoming wedding. The healthy sized glasses of wine that each man had quickly finished off probably had something to do with the easy, relaxed atmosphere surrounding them.

About twenty minutes later, after they had both finished a majority of their meals, Harry grinned and asked, "Ready for dessert?"

"Dessert?" Draco repeated, confused. "But I just had waffles."

"Yes, and that was dinner." Harry paused and signaled to Hannah, who nodded understandingly and rushed into the kitchen. "Dessert is on its way."

Draco watched curiously as the waitress walked over with a rectangular brown box, placing it on the table and picking up their finished dinner plates before leaving. Harry opened the box and faced it towards him, revealing about two dozen chocolates of all shapes and colors.

"How do I know what kind they all are?" he asked, searching the box for some kind of markings and finding none.

"We don't," Harry answered simply. "We just try them one by one and see which ones we like and which ones we hate."

Draco raised an eyebrow. It was strange how Harry seemed to continually combine ritual with surprise. Like how they always go to the same restaurant for dinner, but get breakfast. They always get chocolates, but never know what types. It was pretty intriguing, honestly. He searched the box and grabbed a light chocolate one and bit into it, only to find it filled with a strange, bitter filling he couldn't place. He chewed slowly, fighting the urge to spit it out.

"Don't like that one?" Harry asked, biting back a laugh at the look on his husband's face.

Draco shook his head and swallowed. "That one was awful."

Harry picked up a white chocolate one with a small dark chocolate design on the top. "Here, I think you'll like this one."

The blond took the chocolate and popped it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before nodding in approval.

"Good?" Harry asked. Draco hummed contentedly as he chewed and Harry smiled. "Told you."

Draco smiled and turned the box to face Harry. "Alright, your turn."

For the next few minutes, the boys went back and forth, playing a game reminiscent of Russian Roulette, only with chocolate. Draco surprised himself when he realized that altogether he was having a rather good time so far.

"Wait until you try the hot chocolate," Harry said when almost half the chocolates were gone. "We like to come here when it snows and-"

"Alright, seriously," Draco cut him off, "Are you trying to make me diabetic or just fat?"

Harry laughed, not bothering to try to be quiet for other people's sakes. He laughed long and hard enough that Draco began to glance around to see if anyone was looking.

"Potter, maybe… you shouldn't…" He started, but watching the green-eyed man laughing so carelessly, he couldn't bring himself to let Potter know how much attention he was calling to them, and after a moment longer, he began to laugh as well.

As he stared across the table at the man sitting there, still smiling at him, he felt a surge of affection. He wondered how different his days at Hogwarts would have been if he had realized earlier on how much easier it was to laugh with Harry than it was to torture him every chance he got.

That's why, when Harry held his hand out to him over the table in a way that reminded him so clearly of that first day on the Hogwarts Express, Draco locked away his old bitterness, reached out, and grabbed the man's hand.

Harry quickly paid the bill for their meals, and then together, they left the restaurant and walked out into the slightly chilly September night, hands linked together the whole time.

"So where to next?" Draco asked, since it was only eight o' clock.

Harry glanced at him and grinned, and in the next second they were apparating to their next destination.

Draco blinked in confusion as he looked around. "We're on the Hogwarts grounds? I thought you couldn't apparate here."

"You can't, really…" Harry hedged. "But, you know, my name does come with certain privileges."

The blond rolled his eyes and smirked. "Of course, how could I have forgotten? Nothing is impossible for you, I'm sure." Harry chuckled while Draco stared at the lake in front of him. "So, what, we just come here and look at the lake?"

Harry grinned. "That's not exactly what we do," he said, beginning to slowly unbutton his shirt, holding Draco's gaze.

Draco flushed and shook his head. "Uh, Potter, I don't… I mean, I don't really want to, uh-"

The brunet laughed as he pulled off his shirt entirely. "No, no, not that either. Once a month, we come here and swim in the lake. And we haven't done September yet."

Draco furrowed his brow and tried hard not to focus on Harry and his somewhat distracting lack of clothing. "Why the bloody hell would we do that?" he asked, staring determinedly into the man's green eyes.

"We met this witch last summer in Diagon Alley who said she went swimming once a month in the Pacific Ocean. And she was about ninety years old, so we figured if she could go all the way to the Pacific once a month, we could at least make it to the Hogwarts lake. Anyway, this place is kind of special to us."

"Why is that?" Draco asked, a little nervous about finding out the answer.

Harry grinned. "This is where we first really became friends."

Draco stared at his husband for a moment longer before wordlessly slipping off his jacket. Harry smiled and unbuckled his belt as Draco pulled his short sleeve v-neck shirt over his head. Moments later the men were clothed only in their briefs, rushing towards the water.

"Wait," Draco said suddenly, reaching out an arm to hold Harry back at the very edge of the lake. "Isn't there some kind of giant squid in this lake?"

The brunet grinned. "Who knows? Probably. We're in and out, if there's something in here, it's never bothered us before." After that, he grabbed Draco's hand and dragged the slightly unwilling man into the freezing lake water.

Draco let out an indignant shriek when Harry splashed him with the cold water, and returned the gesture by dunking Harry's entire head underwater. The brunet came back up, glasses askew, and gasped, blinking owlishly. Next thing Draco knew, he was being tackled, fully submerged in the ice cold water. He felt Harry's arms around his waist even underwater, and he shuddered, not just from the temperature.

They burst out of the water at the same time and shook the wet hair out of their eyes and grinned at each other, laughing like fools. And all at once they realized that Harry's hands were still on Draco's bare hips and that they were only several inches apart from each other, and the atmosphere changed quite suddenly.

Harry's thumbs were tracing small circles on Draco's hips and without consciously deciding to do so, Draco's arms wrapped themselves around Harry's neck, drawing the two even closer to each other. Pressed chest to chest, Harry could practically feel his husband's heart pounding next to his own, and it flooded him with a warm, comfortable sense of joy. He watched Draco's eyelids flutter shut in anticipation and grinned, reaching up with one hand to wipe away a drop of water trickling down the stunning man's cheek before tangling his hand in the platinum blond hair and pulling him closer.

The split second before their lips met, they were both alarmed by a suspicious bubbling sound coming from the middle of the lake. Draco took a step backwards, tripping over a rock beneath the surface, and flailed his arms without any of his usual gracefulness as he fell. He landed in mercifully shallow water and sat there for a moment, pushing his hair out of his eyes and spitting out some lake water he had nearly swallowed. He froze (quite literally, due to the temperature of the water) and turned an impressive shade of pink, realizing what a fool he had just made of himself on a date.

He looked up at Harry through his wet hair that was still in his face, and the two merely stared wordlessly at each other for a long moment. Finally, Harry snorted at how ridiculous Draco appeared, and they both lost it. Draco hid his face in his hands as he laughed, and his husband was actually doubled over at his expense.

Harry reached out his hand and helped Draco up. The two ran out of the water, still laughing as they made their way over to their clothing, neatly folded on the ground. Harry grabbed his wand and cast a quick warming spell, and finally the goose bumps on the men's arms disappeared. They sighed in relief, and grabbed their clothes, deciding to only put on their pants, since they were still quite wet.

A long, silent moment passed before Harry wordlessly held out his hand. Draco grabbed it without hesitation, and in seconds they were back at Harry's apartment. Harry wasted no time in throwing his shirt to the side and picking up right where they had left off. He cupped Draco's face in his hands, staring into the man's piercing grey eyes.

"I don't know what the old Draco would have done on a first date," Draco whispered, trying to fight back a smirk, "But with me you're only getting to first base." Harry chuckled low in his throat. His eyes were dark, despite how gentle his hands were. Eventually, it was Draco who made the next move. He dropped his shirt and jacket by their feet, wrapping his arms around Harry's toned, tan waist and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Harry's in a chaste, quick kiss. He tried to stand back on his heels, but Harry didn't let him get that far, surging forward to kiss him again in the blink of an eye.

This kiss was different from the others, more passionate and heated. Draco's fingers dug into Harry's hips as Harry swiped his tongue against his husband's lower lip, asking for entrance. The brunet let his hands trail down Draco's neck and chest before switching over to his back, dragging his fingertips slowly over whatever smooth skin he could reach.

Draco cut off the kiss and pressed his forehead against Harry's, taking a deep breath. Say whatever you would about Harry Potter, but there was no doubt that the man could kiss. "Okay," he breathed out, trying his best to keep the shakiness out of his voice. "Second base, tops."

Harry let out his own breath, warm against Draco's cheek and smiled. "No, this is perfect." He pressed a kiss to Draco's forehead and waited for the blond to look back up at him before leaning down once again to kiss him properly.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, all warm breath and gentle presses, exploring each other as if it truly was for the first time. By the time they pulled apart, they were both breathless and disoriented, and the sky was completely dark.

After getting dressed quietly, Harry once again took hold of Draco's hand, and apparated them back to the front porch of Pansy's home.

Draco looked up at the house and then back at Harry and smirked. "Well, look at that, Potter. We just went on a date."

Harry laughed quietly and nodded. "We did, didn't we? Thank you for coming out with me."

"I had a surprisingly decent time tonight," Draco confessed softly, still too close to Harry for much logical thought to be happening when he was so immersed in the other man's scent.

"Merlin, Draco," Harry started, eyes lighting up. "I've missed you so much. I miss our life together. I miss your smile and your laugh. I just love you." He gripped the blond's hands within his.

Draco blinked and took a step backwards. "I know," he answered quietly. "I'd better get inside, I'll see you soon." He hesitated before pressing a quick kiss to Harry's cheek, and rushing inside, leaving the man dazed and happy, but still as alone as the day he had packed his things and come to stay with his friends.

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, shutting his eyes. Harry had once again told him he loved him, and once again, all he could say was, 'I know.' His heart ached when he thought about how great the night had been, and all around how amazing Harry had turned out to be. But he would never be able to love anybody the way that Harry loved him. Unconditionally and without hesitation. That kind of love could only be achieved by a person much better and more pure than he was. And Harry deserved better. He deserved the love that Draco could never give him.

"Honey, are you alright?"

Draco looked up to find Pansy walking towards him quickly, already in her pajamas. A lump formed in his throat and his breath hitched. He shook his head and looked away, feeling tears forming in his eyes for the first time he could remember since he was ten.

"You were out with Harry, right?" Pansy asked spitefully. Draco could do nothing but nod and she continued, "I just don't like that man, Draco."

The blond looked back to her, blinking quickly as tears rolled down his cheeks steadily and silently. "Well, I do."

Pansy didn't waste a moment before gathering Draco up in her arms and whispering soothing words. He was like a statue in her grasp, tears still streaming down his face as if he had opened up a floodgate. "You'll be okay, sweetheart. You always are."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: You. All. Are. Amazing. HUGE shoutout to Pink Schmetterling, nannily, Slave to my Pen, and all of my other faithful reviewers. I appreciate every single review, favorite, and follow so much! I didn't expect such a positive response for this story, I'm more grateful than you all know. :3**

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><p>"It was amazing," Harry gushed the next morning to Ron and Hermione. "He's completely different from the man he was when he first woke up in the hospital. He was practically his normal self last night. Like all of it was just a bad dream, and I'm finally starting to wake up and get my life back."<p>

Ron was beaming at his best friend as if it was entirely thanks to him that Draco was getting better. "I knew he would remember, mate. Didn't I tell you, when he woke up, that he would remember us? You should really listen to me more often."

"No," Harry shook his head, "he still doesn't remember anything about the last five years. Not a single memory besides the ones I've shown him."

The redhead's face fell and he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Oh. Sorry, then."

"Don't be sorry," Harry insisted, trying to get his point across to his best friend, who was always a little thick-skulled when it came to things like this. "It's incredible. It's like… fate, you know? Like even though he doesn't remember falling in love with me the first time, it doesn't really matter. And everything that I fell in love with about Draco is still there, under the surface. We just get to experience our firsts all over again. It's just so obvious that even with everything that's going on right now, we're still meant to be together."

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment and then his usual goofy smile was plastered back on his face in an instant. "You're right. I'm happy for you, Harry."

Harry smiled at him before looking to Hermione, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since he had begun talking. She also had a small smile on her face, but she seemed distracted.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" Harry asked the girl sitting next to him.

Hermione blinked at him, as if surprised that she was being acknowledged. She sank back into the couch and rested a hand on her swollen belly, rubbing slow circles on it. "Nothing," she answered. "I'm glad that your date with Draco went so well."

"But…." Harry prompted her, knowing her well enough to know that couldn't have been all she wanted to say.

"Well…" she responded warily. "I really don't want to rain on your parade, Harry, Merlin knows you deserve to be this happy right now. All I'm thinking is just that, while to you the date was life-affirming and meaningful, to him, it probably just seemed like a really good first date."

Even though Harry knew that, he couldn't help his smile dimming a bit as he answered, "Yeah, I know."

"I just hope that you realize that one date isn't going to automatically fix everything between you two," Hermione said sadly. "I don't want you to be disappointed if Draco isn't ready to face what he's feeling yet. You know how stubborn he was in school, and even though he's grown from that, he's still that same boy who was so terrified of the future."

Harry nodded and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. "You're right, Hermione. You always are." He put his head in his hands and sighed. "Why couldn't you just have been happy for me like Ron?" he asked her sarcastically.

"I just don't want to see you hurting anymore, Harry," Hermione told him.

"Hey, neither do I," Ron cut in defensively. "And that's why I think you need to wait the standard three days to see him again."

"Three days?" Harry looked up in disbelief.

"At least," Ron confirmed.

The brunet chuckled and shook his head. "You think I have to wait three days to talk to my own husband after a date?"

"Just looking out for you," Ron shrugged.

Hermione rolled her eyes, agitated. "Alright, Ronald, stop confusing poor Harry. As if he needs such silly advice right now." Ron grinned at Harry before staring innocently back at Hermione. The woman narrowed her eyes at him and continued, "Back to what I was saying. Harry, I hope everything goes back to normal. And I really believe that one day, it will. But if it doesn't happen as quickly as you want it to, I don't want you to be too disappointed."

"I know, Hermione," Harry answered smoothly. "He needs time to sort things out. And I'm going to give him that time. And then soon enough, maybe tomorrow, maybe a month from now, maybe five months from now, he'll remember. And everything will be like it's supposed to."

The brunette girl smiled and nodded. "I hope so, Harry. I really do."

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><p>The next week was slow and, to put it gently, excruciating.<p>

Harry had tried to see Draco three times over the past few days, and every time, he was turned away at the door by Pansy on with some lame excuse of him being too busy to see Harry. After their date the previous week had gone so well, Harry had expected some sort of change for them, but apparently not. Apparently Draco wanted to act like it had never even happened.

So finally the day of Pansy and Blaise's wedding rolled around, and the day Harry's husband could no longer avoid seeing him. Hermione had come over earlier to make sure he was dressed in his best dress robes, that his hair was neat and orderly, and that the skin below his eyes showed no evidence of the lack of sleep the past week had brought.

He sighed and prepared himself for the worst before heading off to Pansy and Blaise's manor.

He was glad he had at least tried to prepare himself for whatever awful events could occur, but what he had not counted on was how awkward his presence would be. The moment he arrived, at least one hundred pair of eyes turned to stare at him, and he couldn't pick a single ally out of the crowd. Everyone eventually forgot he was there, besides the girl who turned to glare viciously when he accidentally crushed her foot, and as he attempted to maneuver his way through the crowded rooms, he realized that most of these people were Slytherins. He was beginning to recognize a lot of people he only knew from the Hogwarts hallways, mostly people who had never been entirely fond of him, either.

Ten minutes later the violins began to play, and everyone started pouring out into the backyard, where the actual ceremony was being held, but Harry had yet to find Draco. He went along with the motion of the crowd, but for the life of him, could not make out a head of white-blond hair anywhere in the chaos.

Feeling a bit defeated, he took an aisle seat towards the back of the yard, and continued to look around. Most people were settled now, and the last few stragglers were just finding seats when the orchestra began to play their soothing music in earnest. Harry glanced up at the altar and felt his heart skip several beats when he realized that Draco was already up by the altar.

Draco was in his finest dress robes, and was smiling at Blaise, who was looking back at him a bit nervously. The blond whispered something to him quietly and the groom laughed, grinning at him for a moment longer before turning his attention back to the aisle. The audience had stood from their seats, and Harry joined them instinctively, before he had even seen the bride.

Despite all of the hatred that Harry felt for Pansy, it was impossible to deny her beauty that day. She was in a long, strapless, traditional-looking white gown, and her sleek up-do accentuated her lean figure. She was beaming, a true, genuine smile as she walked up the aisle, clutching a bouquet of assorted flowers. She was gorgeous, and Blaise was more handsome than ever, waiting anxiously at the altar.

He felt a twinge in his heart as Draco walked over to greet Pansy, taking her flowers as she kissed him sweetly on the cheek. He walked back to his rightful place at Blaise's side, setting the flowers aside gently before turning his attention back to the couple. In all of their years of friendship, Draco had never seen them look so utterly overjoyed, and he felt a grin of his own take over for his friends' happiness.

The entire ceremony took about an hour, and though the couple didn't write their own vows, it turned out to be very touching. Pansy and Blaise were clearly crazy for one another, and the backyard of their estate looked amazing. The entire backyard was covered in colorful flowers, contrasted sharply by white chairs and tablecloths. The wedding had been held at sunset, which covered everything in a very surreal glow. The effect was romantic, and quite lovely.

After the long-awaited kiss and the inevitable cheers for the newly wedded couple, the officiant announced that the reception was going to take place in about half an hour, and that everybody should head inside for cocktails so that they staff on hand could transform the backyard into the space they needed.

Harry was out of his seat and making a beeline for Draco before everyone else stood and began gathering their things. The blond saw him approaching and shifted uneasily on his feet, crossing and uncrossing his arms, but stood his ground.

"Draco," Harry breathed when he reached his husband. He tried to keep the pounding of his heart under control, but it was next to impossible when he hadn't seen Draco in over a week. There he was, standing in front of him looking well-rested and gorgeous, smiling as if he hadn't spent the past week dodging his husband after their first date.

"It's good to see you, Harry," Draco said politely, holding out his hand to Harry as if he expected him to shake it.

Harry eyed the hand like it could transfer the plague and whispered harshly, "I've been trying to see you all week, Draco. What had been going on with you? I've been worried sick."

Draco shrugged. "You didn't need to worry about me. I've been busy. But look how well the wedding went, and how good everything looks right now. It seems like it was worth it," he said smugly.

"Worth it to who?" Harry snapped, and Draco's expression hardened and closed off.

"Stop making me out to be the bad guy here," Draco growled. "I haven't done anything wrong. Not talking to you is not a crime, Potter." He stood his ground and glared for a moment longer before stalking off back to the party, leaving Harry, once again, upset and alone.

That didn't last long, however, as Blaise soon walked over to him with two glasses of amber liquid. He greeted Harry and handed a glass to him, which Harry took gratefully.

"Congratulations," Harry said, raising his glass to Blaise before he took a small sip of the bitter alcohol.

Blaise smiled. "Thank you. And thank you for coming, too."

"Of course," Harry responded automatically, leaning against the wall and scoping out the room, trying to find Draco. He finally found him over by a group of people who looked vaguely familiar to him. Maybe former Slytherins, but he couldn't place them all. Harry took a slightly bigger sip of his drink, wincing as it burned its way down his throat.

"You know, Harry, I feel like I haven't gotten to talk to you at all yet," Blaise said amicably, and Harry just nodded. Blaise followed Harry's gaze to find his best friend, laughing at something Pansy's friend Milicent had just said. "Draco is different now than he used to be," Blaise commented.

Harry snorted. "Tell me about it."

"He's more similar to how he used to be back in school, but he's changed from that, too. He's more patient, and he's definitely more kind. And I think he seems happier, as well."

Harry nodded. "You're right. He never used to laugh like that when we were in school. Not that I saw, anyway. But I know he was happier two months ago, when we were married."

Blaise rose an eyebrow and sipped his drink before asking, "When you were married?"

The brunet flushed at his mistake and corrected himself quickly, "I just mean before the accident, when he actually remembered me. Obviously we're still married."

"Are you really though?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Harry asked harshly, narrowing his eyes at the man beside him.

Blaise shrugged. "All I'm saying is that he doesn't wear his ring. He doesn't live with you. He doesn't love you. Is that really a marriage that you still want to be in?"

"We're still working things out," Harry snapped. "He needs time, and I don't plan on rushing him. And by the way, he does still live with me, he just came here to help you with the wedding. He's coming home tomorrow."

Blaise sighed heavily and set his drink aside, stepping in front of Harry so that the shorter man had no choice but to watch him as he talked. "Draco is my best friend, and I truly want whatever is best for him. I know that you don't believe that, because of what happened when you two got together, but I've realized how awful we were since then. All I want is what makes him happy. Honestly, just last week I truly believed that you two would be together. But when he comes back to mine and Pansy's house after your date crying his eyes out, it leads me to believe that you no longer make him happy."

"He was crying?" Harry cut in incredulously, heart sinking into his stomach.

The taller man just raised a hand and continued, "I know you want him to come home. You want him to remember you. You need him to be in love with you. But what you really have to do is think about his feelings rather than your own for a minute. He doesn't love you anymore. All your presence is doing at this point is stressing him out and making his life more difficult than it needs to be."

"He does love me," Harry insisted.

"He doesn't," Blaise retorted, voice rising slightly with frustration. "And you're being so selfish by refusing to do what is so obviously best for him."

Harry crossed his arms defiantly. "And you know what's best for him?"

"Yes, I do."

"So what would that be?"

"Divorce him."

Harry stared at Blaise, wide-eyed and in shock. Whatever he had thought Blaise was about to say, that was not it. The thought of doing such a thing had never even once crossed his mind. He was physically incapable of even thinking about it.

"You need to leave Draco up to us," Blaise said, more calmly now. "We can take care of him better than you right now."

Harry shook his head. "You're wrong. He needs me just as much as I need him." He walked past Blaise, bumping him with his shoulder violently as he left.

"Ask him if he's going back to your house tonight," Blaise called after him. "Ask him if he loves you."

Harry whirled around, turning on Blaise once again. "You're loving this, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?" the man asked, staring at him innocently.

"I mean," Harry hissed, "that Draco hated you. He left you behind to go marry some guy that you all used to despise. And now, he's crawling back to you and hanging me out to dry."

Blaise smirked at him and chuckled. "Well, when you put it that way, I guess I do like this a little bit."

Harry ignored the flare of anger that rushed through him and he answered, "You know what I like? Knowing that Draco outgrew you once, and that no matter what happens between he and I, it's bound to happen again." Without waiting for an answer, he turned away and headed back into the chaos of the party.

His head was buzzing as he searched the room for Draco, but he was nowhere in sight. He needed some air, just to clear his head. Eventually, he pushed his way past the crowd of people and made it to the front doors. He walked outside, still clutching his drink, hands shaking with rage.

Life has a funny way of punching you in the gut when you least expect it. Of course, when Harry left the party to go outside and figure out what to do about his husband, there Draco stood, leaning against the porch railing, conveniently alone. The blond turned to look at him and suddenly, everything that he had been planning on saying no longer seemed to matter.

"Harry, what are you-"

"Are you coming home tonight?" Harry interrupted, suddenly desperate to know the answer. Draco stared down guiltily, and remained silent. "Tomorrow?" He paused. "The day after that?" Still no answer. "Say something!" Harry shouted, letting his temper get the best of him.

Draco looked up in surprise. "Just hold on a minute."

"For what?" Harry continued to yell. "What am I waiting for? Please tell me, because all I've been doing for the past month is waiting. Waiting for you to remember me, to want to be with me, to love me. Have I really been waiting all this time for nothing? I've been doing everything that I can to try to save what we had, and you've just been sitting around here, avoiding me."

"That's not fair," Draco growled. "They needed my help."

"Not fair?" Harry asked, voice low and disbelieving. "What's not fair is that I'm still just as in love with you as I was the day of our wedding, and that you just don't care. I need to stop deluding myself into thinking that one day you'll remember and everything will go back to normal. It's been two months. Your memory isn't coming back."

Draco sighed as his anger dissipated. He took a step forward and reached out to his husband. "Harry, I-"

Harry flinched away and shook his head. "No, Draco, don't. The fact of the matter is that I'm still just that sixteen year old boy that you hated in Hogwarts, and that's all I'll ever be to you. No matter what I do."

Draco closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm not trying to hurt you." He looked up and Harry saw his eyes were red. "I'm just so sick of disappointing you."

"You have never once disappointed me, Draco," Harry said quietly. "You never could."

"I just can't do this anymore," Draco told him, voice breaking at the end. "I can't be the person that you remember me as. And I'm so sorry."

Harry nodded once and smiled sadly. "That's twice now that you've apologized to me."

"Don't get used to it," Draco responded, just as easily as he did the first time. The men both laughed quietly, and when Harry looked back at his husband, he was rubbing furiously at his eyes with his palms, tears running down his cheeks. "Ever since I woke up I've been like a sodding faucet," Draco mumbled, his voice cracking and hoarse.

Harry laughed again and reached out, grabbing Draco's hands away from his eyes. The usual piercing grey was rimmed with red, and his pale skin was splotchy and soaked with tears. He was gorgeous, and always would be.

"How do you look at the man you know is your soul mate, and tell yourself that it's time to walk away?" Harry mused aloud, reaching up to brush away a couple of tears from Draco's cheeks with his thumb. He stared for a moment longer before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to Draco's wet cheek.

Draco's eyes were firmly set on the ground beside his feet as Harry walked away. He whipped his head up just as Harry was about to leave and called out to him. "Harry!"

Harry turned around, unable to keep a small bubble of hope from forming in his chest.

Draco clenched his jaw and watched Harry closely as he said, "I hope one day that I can love the way that you love me."

The brunet looked up at the sky, and willed himself not to cry as he stared at the bright stars. "You figured it out once," he breathed, slowly looking back at Draco. "You'll do it again."

Draco's breath caught in his throat and he had to press a hand to his mouth to stop an honest to God sob from getting out.

'How odd this must look,' he thought to himself absently. 'A Malfoy crying over Harry Potter.' But then he realized with a start that he, too, was a Potter and that to anyone else it probably just seemed like a marital spat. Not too extraordinary at all. He was the only one who would truly find it odd. Suddenly, he felt completely and totally alone.

Pansy came outside several minutes later, and grabbed Draco's hand. "I knew he was going to hurt you, love." She sighed sympathetically, reaching up to brush some tears off of his face. "Are you okay?"

He chuckled without humor and smirked. "I'll be fine, Pansy. I always am. That's what you told me the other night, right?"

Pansy frowned and wrapped her arms around Draco tight, and though he would never admit it, he was extremely grateful. Because he felt like he might have been breaking into a million pieces, and at that moment, Pansy's arms around his waist might have been the only thing that kept him from falling apart.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I'M SO SORRY. I know it's been forever since updated, I'm just so swamped with school and work now it's ridiculous. Also, up until this point I've had a couple of chapters written in advance, but now I'm caught up, so I'm actually posting them right after I finish them. Once again, I apologize, and I thank you if you stay with me! The story is certainly drawing to a close, though it will go a bit past where The Vow ends. **

**This chapter is shamefully short, but if all goes well, the next one should be up in a week. Thank you all so much!**

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><p>Hermione and Ron were waiting in his apartment when he got back. Though he had been craving some solitude, he knew he couldn't leave them in the dark about what had just happened. Draco was their friend too, two months ago. This time, Hermione didn't even bat an eye before rushing to Harry and throwing her arms around his neck. She stayed like that before pulling back and grabbing his face, stduying him closely, as a mother would inspect her child.<p>

"It didn't go well, did it?" she asked quietly.

"You could say that."

She sighed and pulled him to the kitchen table, where she and Ron had been waiting.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked tentatively.

"Fine," Harry answered quickly. And surprisingly, he wasn't lying. He wasn't devastated, wasn't inconsolable, he was just kind of… numb. And, since it could have been worse, he figured he could live with that. His friends were still staring at him expectantly, so he shrugged and looked down at the table. "I just… I give up."

Ron scoffed. "What are you saying? You never give up."

"No, if we were meant to be together, we would be together," Harry responded harshly. "I just can't do this anymore."

Hermione reached over and covered his hand with hers. "Oh, Harry…" she whispered, because what else could she say, really?

"I just keep thinking about Christmas morning of our seventh year," Harry said quietly, still staring straight down. "He gave me that snitch and all I could do was go on and on about the colors and the detail and how anybody could even create such a thing. And then out of nowhere, he just said it. Exhaled it, really, as if he didn't even really mean to say it out loud. I love you. Just like that, quiet and nervous. It was the first time he had said it. And I just sat there and listened to it over and over in my head because of how perfect and unreal it sounded to me." He stopped and felt the numbness begin to ebb away and be replaced by an uncomfortable stinging in his eyes. He lifted his hand from underneath Hermione's and covered his eyes as he continued, "Two weeks. All it took the first time was two weeks in that castle together, and he loved me. Have I really changed so much that he can't even feel the same way about me after living with me for two months?" After a silent moment, he swiped angrily at his eyes, wiping away the tears that had fallen without his permission.

Nobody said anything for quite some time. Harry stared just over his friends' shoulders, and Ron and Hermione glanced continually between each other and Harry. Hermione was almost in tears for her friend when Harry shook his head and stood up. "He doesn't love me."

Instead of making his friends leave so that he could be alone, he decided to leave himself. He closed his eyes and a moment later, he was wondering why on earth he had chosen to come to the Quidditch field. It was dark and the lights lining the field were off. He briefly considered turning them on, but decided against it.

"Accio broomstick," he whispered distractedly. He waited impatiently, and pulled his coat a little tighter around himself. Fall was definitely on its way. The chill in the air had snuck up on everyone, and soon it would be replacing teeshirts and shorts with coats and gloves. It was unfair, really, how time was able to pass without anyone's permission.

Harry hopped on his broom quickly when it arrived and kicked off, flying as high as he felt like, at whatever pace he pleased. The cold winds were biting at his cheeks now, and he was sure they were turning bright red. No matter what was going on in one's life, they could always depend on the seasons to keep them grounded. You lose your husband, you lose your happiness, and you never know what the next day might hold, but the days keep slipping by, and the seasons march on. Life stops for nobody. Not even for Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

He didn't know how long he flew for, just that by the time he lowered himself back to the grass, he was sufficiently exhausted. He threw down his broom and fell backwards, leaning back on his hands to stare up at the night sky. The sky was clear and beautiful, and there was no doubt that it was the perfect night for a wedding. The stars were bright and promising, but curiously enough, Harry thought that there might just be a few less than usual.

He closed his eyes and made a wish upon the brightest star he could see before reaching out to the side with his hand. All he felt was more grass and empty space. He was alone.

Yes, the stars were definitely less striking than they once were.

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><p>Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Winter had been cruel this year, and the snow seemed to be never-ending.<p>

It was December, and Harry Potter came home from work expecting to do the usual: shower, prepare himself a meal, study his case files from the day, have a glass of wine, and then go to sleep. His routine might not have been exciting, but he was passing the time.

It had been three months since he had seen or heard from Draco Malfoy.

The moment he arrived in his apartment, there was a knock at his door. He was confused, since the only people who ever visited him were Ron and occasionally Hermione, though she was now so pregnant that she rarely had the energy to leave her home. The baby would be born in less than a month. But even when they visited, they usually came by floo.

He walked over and opened his door, meeting a man that he did not recognize. He was older, probably late fifties, wearing fine, deep green dress robes.

He smiled and held out his hand. "Mr. Potter. I'm Justin Holmus, and I'm here on behalf of Mr. Draco Potter."

Harry fought the urge to slam the door shut in his face, since there were very few possibilities of why the man would be here, and none of them seemed appealing. He shook his hand briefly and ushered him inside.

Holmus glanced around the apartment before walking over to the kitchen table, setting down his big briefcase. "Won't you sit with me, Mr. Potter?" he asked, gesturing to the chair across from him.

Harry took the seat, keeping a watchful eye on the stranger as he rifled through his bag and pulled out a thick manila envelope.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked, working hard to keep the panic out of his voice.

The man smiled sympathetically, setting Harry even further on edge, before pulling out a single piece of paper and handing it to Harry. "I'm here to legalize your divorce with your husband."

Harry stared at the paper before him, vision hazy. "This can't be happening," he mumbled to himself. Of course, as good as he had been at avoiding his painful problems, here they were, laid out before him in the form of a single piece of paper. A paper that would end his marriage, and make the last six years of his life, everything that he and Draco had fought for together, meaningless.

He picked up the pen the lawyer had handed him with a shaky hand and took a closer look at the paper. The words were jumbling together in a meaningless blur, but the bottom part he understood perfectly well. Draco had already signed the document. His signature was there, plain as day. Draco had decided to end their life together, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He signed the paper quickly and threw it and the pen back at Holmus as if they had burned him.

"Is that all?" he asked quietly.

The man picked up the paper and scanned it quickly, nodding. "Yes, this is perfect. Thank you for being so understanding, Mr. Potter. You and Mr. Malfoy are now officially divorced."

Harry didn't understand why Holmus was smiling at him still, as if this was something to be celebrated. "I don't understand at all," he told the man, whose smile faltered just a bit. "But there's nothing I can do to change that, can I?"

Mr. Justin Holmus looked extremely ill at ease, as though this was the first time one of his clients had ever asked him for personal advice. He shoved his things back into his suitcase and stood up quickly, holding out his hand. "Have a good day, Mr. Potter," he said as though he hadn't even heard Harry.

The brunet glanced at his hand and looked away, crossing his arms. It might have been childish, and no, it didn't really make him feel any better when Holmus let his hand drop to his side awkwardly before leaving the apartment quietly, but shaking his hand would have felt too much like agreeing with this. And while he had signed the document to make Draco as happy and free as he wanted, he most certainly did not have to agree.

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><p>Two days later, Draco got a letter from a very official-looking eagle owl telling him that he was officially divorced.<p>

"Look at that," he said quietly to his empty apartment. "I'm a Malfoy again."

For some reason, the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Once again, sorry for the wait. I just can't keep up with the pace I was updating over the summer, but I'm going to try my best to update once a week. I hope you all understand, since I'm sure you all have school and work and your own lives that you're juggling as well. Thanks so much to everyone who has stuck with me so far, and to those who review, I am so grateful!**

**For those who have asked me if this story is going to end the same way the movie did, I'm not quite sure. I know I plan to go further than the ending of the movie, but I haven't made up my mind yet about whether or not Draco will end up remembering Harry... Hm.. If anyone has any thoughts or suggestions, I would absolutely love to hear them!**

**Anyways, on with the chapter. Hope you enjoy!**

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><p>It was the end of January, and winter was in full force.<p>

Harry Potter was busier than ever since Hermione had her baby, Rose. He was a very proud godfather, and wanted to be around the baby girl as much as possible, but work had been hectic. Three Aurors had gotten injured on the job last week, and one nearly died. It had lit a fire in the office, motivating everyone to find the people who could do such a thing to their partners, and to put them behind bars for the rest of their lives.

Harry, as the Head Auror, dealt mostly with the beaurocratic side of the work rather than actually going out into the field as he once did, but the amount of paperwork he had been receiving kept him working long nights followed by very early mornings.

He was just finishing up for the night, filing away all of his work and struggling to keep his eyes open, when he heard footsteps coming from outside his office. Last he had checked, everyone else had gone home. The entire floor had been deserted besides him.

Harry was immediately alert, hand on his wand and eyes trained on the door. For one silent minute, he didn't move a muscle, but he hadn't heard the footsteps again. He relaxed only slightly, inching his way towards the door. He breathed out slowly before pushing the door open and glancing out, ready to use his wand the instant it became necessary.

He scanned the room, and almost dropped his wand in surprise when he saw a shock of blond hair at the other end of the room, walking towards the exit.

"Draco?" he called out cautiously.

The blond turned and Harry saw that it was, indeed, his husband. Well, ex-husband, he remembered, feeling as though he had been torn in half.

"Oh, hey, Harry," Draco returned casually, as though they had only bumped into each other in the street rather than Draco sneaking up on him in his workplace.

"What are you doing in here?" Harry asked, not unkindly.

Draco started walking towards him, and smiled guiltily, like a child who was caught eating sweets and was trying to lessen their punishment. "I'm lost?" He gave a little half-shrug.

Harry blinked at him, most certainly not amused.

The blond sighed and deflated before leaning against the table opposite where Harry stood. "Fine. Hermione told me where you worked."

"Hermione?" Harry repeated, almost more willing to believe that Draco had walked in because he was lost than that he was willingly communicating with Hermione.

Draco shrugged again. "She owled me to tell me about the baby, and we've kind of been talking ever since."

"Oh." Harry said intelligently, making a mental note that he had to kill Hermione later for not telling him about this.

An extremely awkward silence ensued, and while Harry was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice, it had Draco squirming.

"It's snowing," the blond blurted out.

Harry glanced out the window beside him distractedly and realized that Draco was right. Not that he was too surprised, with the winter they had been having. "Yes, it is."

Draco seemed to be getting frustrated, though Harry really had no idea what he had come to him for in the first place.

"I could really go for some hot cocoa," Draco said, somewhat anxiously. "Isn't there some place we usually go to in Hogsmeade for that when it's snowing?"

Harry simply stared, and tried to understand what exactly was happening. This was the first time he had seen Draco in months, and it had been the blond's choice to separate in the first place. Just like it had been his choice to divorce. He hadn't heard a single word from him in months, and now he just got to show up out of the blue and decide that they would go get cocoa? As though it was completely ordinary for them? It didn't seem fair.

Draco was squirming again, and said cautiously, "I understand if you're busy. I read about what happened to those Aurors in the Daily Prophet."

"No, I'm not busy," Harry said, shaking his head and then continuing to stare.

"Oh," Draco answered. He fiddled with a button on his shirt. "Oh. Alright then. I didn't really expect you to come, anyway," Draco told him, though it was obvious that that was exactly what he had expected. "I was just bored at my apartment but, yeah, I should probably be getting back anyway. A lot of unpacking to be done. So." He clenched his jaw to prevent himself from further embarrassing himself, nodded quickly, and turned to leave.

The sight of Draco leaving the room finally snapped Harry back to reality. Who cares what made Draco have a change of heart? Who cares if it wasn't fair that Draco ignored him for months? What mattered was that Draco came to him and wanted to spend time together. To hell with fair.

"Wait!" Harry called out. Draco turned back to him, trying too hard to act casual. "Of course I want to go with you. It is snowing, after all. Hot chocolate is practically calling my name." Harry grinned as he watched Draco slowly straighten up, smirking as if he had known the whole time that Harry would eventually go with him.

Five minutes later, the men were standing side by side in Hogsmeade, just outside of Madam Puttifoot's. Draco immediately began to walk up to the door, wrapping his arms around himself and shivering. "I can't wait for this bloody winter to be over," he mumbled, glancing beside himself. He stopped in his tracks when he realized that Potter was no longer walking with him. He turned around and found Harry staring past him at the building thoughtfully.

"Coming, Potter?" he called impatiently.

Harry blinked at him before answering, "I know this is where we always used to go, but how would you like to go somewhere new?"

Draco immediately understood why Harry wanted to leave. This was where they used to go when they were married, when they were in love. He wanted to start a new chapter, not go to a place haunted by so many ghosts.

The blond liked the idea, and smiled. "Sure."

Harry thought for a minute before saying, "Hermione and Ron go to this little place called Brews and Stews Café all the time. It's a little ways down this street." He was about to suggest walking when he noticed how badly Draco was shivering. He held out his arm. "Ready?"

Draco nodded and slipped his hand into the crook of Harry's elbow. He could have apparated himself, but he had gotten used to apparating alongside Potter. He didn't really know where the place was, anyway.

Two minutes later they were standing in a small, cozy café, blowing hot air into their hands to warm their chilly fingers.

"I'll go get the cocoa," Draco smiled, stuffing his hands into his pockets and fingering the small vial in his pocket.

"Okay," Harry nodded, "I'll go get us a table."

Draco strolled up to the counter, ordering two hot chocolates from a kind looking elderly witch. He pulled the vial out of his pocket but kept it hidden in his hand, his heart beating like crazy. He hadn't been sure if he was going to go through with this, but now that he was here, there was no doubt in his mind. He had to do it. He had to know. Harry would definitely be a bit miffed afterwards, if he could figure it out, but that was nothing Draco couldn't deal with.

The woman came back to him and handed him the cocoa with a smile, turning her back to go check on some pastries that had been in the oven. Draco glanced behind him to make sure Harry wasn't watching before uncorking the small vial and putting three small drops into one mug. The liquid was totally clear, and the two mugs of hot chocolate were identical.

He grinned in a sort of self-satisfied kind of way before shoving the vial deep into his pocket and carrying the mugs over to the table Harry had gotten them.

"Here you go," Draco said as he dropped the proper mug in front of Harry.

Harry smiled and pulled it a bit closer to himself as Draco sat down across from him.

"So what have you been up to?" Harry asked, gripping the mug in both of his hands. He lifted his mug to his lips and took a deep sip, sighing as the rich liquid warmed his stomach.

"I've been keeping busy. I got an apartment for myself, so Pansy and Blaise have been helping me move," Draco answered distractedly, watching Harry's face intently, waiting for a sign that it had worked.

"Oh, I'm glad," Harry told him. "So you've been well?"

Draco furrowed his brow. Had the potion not worked? He was sure he had put in all the right ingredients. "Yes, I've been well," he said politely, eyeing Harry's drink distractedly. Had he mixed up the drinks? "And you?"

Harry took another sip before smiling and answering, "I've been absolutely terrible."

Both men looked shocked at his answer, but Harry seemed more confused than Draco. He tried to backtrack and ended up saying, "What I mean is that I've been a complete wreck without you."

His cheeks flared red and he stared down into his cup, mouth agape. It didn't take long at all for him to put two and two together. He stared back at Draco accusingly, just noticing how he seemed entirely too casual for the situation, and hissed, "Veritaserum? Really?"

"Why did I lose touch with Pansy and Blaise?" Draco asked as his answer. His heart was pounding fast but he refused to let himself feel guilty, even as Harry's green eyes widened and he stared into his mug of hot chocolate.

"After the war, you and your parents, as well as Pansy and Blaise's, were up for trial. Lucius was sent to Azkaban immediately, there was really no way that he could get out of it, even with all of the influence he has." Harry looked enraged, but continued to talk, as if he couldn't help it. Which, Draco had made sure, he couldn't. He dragged an aggravated hand through his tousled brunet hair and continued, "Pansy and Blaise were still mad at you for choosing to be with me, so they used you and your mother as scapegoats to lessen their own parents' sentences. Without their testimonies, your mother probably would have been free."

Draco's mouth went completely dry, and his head was throbbing with a mixture of rage and disbelief. "They were my best friends. How could they do that to me?"

"Because they're greasy, sneaky little gits," Harry answered smoothly, and Draco figured Harry really didn't need the veritaserum to be able to say that.

"Why didn't they throw me into Azkaban then, as well? If they testified against me?" Draco asked.

"Because I testified for you," Harry shrugged. "I convinced them that you were underage and heavily influenced by your father. And your father being who he is, you couldn't really help that. It wasn't your fault."

Draco clenched his jaw and swallowed the sudden burn at the back of his throat away. "I can't believe nobody told me."

"I can't believe you drugged me," Harry whispered, furious.

"You wouldn't have told me what happened otherwise," Draco retorted, crossing his arms defiantly.

"I certainly wouldn't have lied to you if you had told me that you really needed to know. But you're Draco Malfoy, so of course you can't just sit me down and ask me like a normal person. You have to ask me to get hot chocolate for the sole purpose of slipping something in my drink and interrogating me." Harry couldn't keep his voice from rising, and he stood from his seat.

Harry took out a couple of sickles and threw them down on the table for the cocoa before walking out the door, not sparing Draco a second glance.

The blond took a deep breath before standing and chasing him outside. "If you had just told me the truth in the first place, this wouldn't be happening!" Draco yelled when he caught up with the other man. "And a few drops of veritaserum is hardly the worst thing we've ever done to each other in our relationship." He noticed Harry's eyes flicking down to his chest, then quickly back up to his face. Draco chose not to dwell on it, instead bursting out, "Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

"Because," Harry shouted, exasperated, "I thought that you were asking me out so that we could reconnect! Maybe not like we used to be, but as friends at least. And now I find out that this was all just so that you could interrogate me like some kind of criminal. I'm just disappointed."

Draco stopped in his tracks, anger fading away quickly. "Oh."

He had disappointed Harry. Again.

"Yeah." Harry looked away. "I'm just going to go home, okay? See you around."

"Wait, Harry!" Draco lunged and grabbed his wrist before he could leave. "I didn't think you would be so upset. I didn't think at all, okay? Just… I asked Pansy this morning and she told me it wasn't important and just brushed me off like it didn't mean anything when it so obviously does. I _needed_ to know."

Harry sighed. "Okay," he said, still refusing to look at Draco. "Don't worry about it, Draco. I understand. I don't like it, but I understand why you did it." Draco hesitated before nodding and letting go of Harry's wrist. Harry continued, "I'm going home now. Go talk to Pansy and Blaise."

Draco's face twisted up. "I don't know if I want to."

The brunet shrugged. "It's up to you. Might give you some closure though, in the end."

Draco sighed. "I suppose. I just feel so betrayed. I don't even want to look at them."

"Yeah," Harry eyed him skeptically before staring up at the falling snow. His glasses were getting wet and it was getting harder to see, but he didn't care. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

The blond's heart sank a bit and he wished he had given a passing thought to how hurt Harry would be when he found out. He had expected the anger of course, but he was expecting the juvenile, indignant anger of the sixteen year old boy he once knew, not the disappointment and betrayal of a grown man. It always came down to this. Always came back to the fact that teenage Harry is still much more prevalent in his mind than the current one, and that they were two completely different people. He wondered if he would ever be able to set them straight for himself.

"Can I come visit you again soon?" Draco asked after the silence had stretched on for a bit too long.

Harry shrugged. "You know where to find me."

And with that, he was gone, and Draco was standing alone in Hogsmeade, chilled to the bone, and not just from the seemingly endless snow, wondering if anything would ever go right for him.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: This chapter is super short, more of a filler than anything. As always, I am so sorry, and thank you for bearing with me. Hopefully life will spare me some free time soon where I can just sit and finish the whole story in a sitting or two. Only around two chapters left, I imagine. Thank you all so so very much.**

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><p>As much as he dreaded it, he knew that talking to Pansy and Blaise was unavoidable. He was much too angry for there to not be a confrontation. He didn't know what he was going to say yet, or what he would do after that, since he was virtually friendless without them, but he would figure that part out later. He did well under pressure, or so he liked to tell himself.<p>

He apparated to their doorstep straight from Hogsmeade, preferring to dwell on his anger at them rather than his guilt over Harry. He knocked on the door before he could find a reason not to, since courage had never exactly been his strong suit.

And when Pansy opened the door, Blaise visible behind her, his heart twisted painfully in his chest. These were the two people he loved most in the entire world. The only friends that he had trusted at Hogwarts. And they had stabbed him in the back without a second thought.

Pansy smiled and pulled him into a tight hug, as usual, but he remained stiff in her arms. She pulled back and tugged him inside before he could get a word in edgewise.

Blaise turned toward him and smiled. "You're just in time. Want to help me hang up some wedding portraits? I can't seem to get them straight."

Draco wasn't listening, could barely even hear him through the sound of his own heart pounding violently. The more he looked at his friends pretending everything was normal between them all, the more he had the ridiculous urge to break down and start crying. He stared down at his feet instead. He was shaking like a leaf, and he curled his hands into tight fists, jaw clenching almost painfully.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?" Pansy asked, eyes wide and worried and so innocent. She reached out to place her hand on his shoulder, and he jerked away violently.

"No," he spat. "I'm not alright. Not at all."

"What did Potter do to you?" Pansy asked, voice suspicious and arms crossed in front of her. Blaise was tense and his lips were pressed together in a hard line.

Draco snapped his gaze up from the floor, turning them accusingly towards Pansy. "He told me the truth, that's what he did."

He felt a sliver of satisfaction as Pansy and Blaise exchanged panicked glances. They turned to stare at him like they were trapped in the lion's den, like they had no idea what to do or say that could keep them safe.

"How could you do that to me?" he rasped, hoping they felt guilty as hell.

Pansy shook her head and covered her mouth with her fingers, looking only moments away from falling apart. "We were just kids, Draco. We were scared, and angry."

"You were angry at me for dating Potter, so you took it out on me and my mother?" he asked, voice raising and echoing around the grand entrance hall.

A tiny sob escaped Pansy, and Blaise stepped forward to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We've never regretted anything so much in our lives, Draco," Blaise spoke quietly, the only one who seemed to have a handle on their emotions. "I know it doesn't excuse what we did, but when we saw your face at the trial, Draco, when… when she was sentenced, we wanted to die. We never thought anything would actually happen to either of you."

"Yeah, well, it did," Draco seethed, not caring whether or not he seemed childish. "And what made you think that you could just hide this from me forever? I get bashed in the head with a bludger, forget that this had ever happened, and you two just swoop back into my life? You made Harry out to be the bad guy, when in truth, he's the only reason I'm not sitting in Azkaban alongside my parents right now." Guilt was descending on him like a tidal wave, and it made him falter ever so slightly in his anger.

"We didn't intend it to be that way in the beginning," Pansy sniffed. "Remember, we didn't contact you for weeks after you were injured. We knew it wouldn't be right to take advantage of you that way."

"But you showed up here instead and you loved us again and we just couldn't throw that away," Blaise finished for her. "You're still our best friend, no matter what mistakes we made in the past."

"Well you're rubbish best friends," Draco said harshly, crossing his arms.

Pansy nodded and wrapped her arm around Blaise's waist for support. "Please, just tell us what we can do to make this right, Draco. We can't lose you again." She sounded watery and tired and suddenly Draco felt a bit the same way.

"There's nothing you can do," he told her, voice lacking any of his previous anger. And then he just wanted to be home in his empty apartment, sleeping away the remainder of this completely horrendous day.

Halfway out the door, he looked back over his shoulder, the only two people he had ever really trusted staring back at him, looking like total strangers.

"I would have done anything for you two," he said, mostly to himself. Another quick sob left Pansy and Blaise's grip on the girl's shoulder tightened considerably, but neither said anything, so Draco slipped outside into the cool night air and shut the door firmly behind him.


End file.
